World War Zo
by Epic Breadstick
Summary: Zoey is torn apart by the loss of her comrades. Desperate for salvation, she is forced to place her trust and her life in hands of four strangers. It's been done before, but not quite like this .
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own any of the l4d characters, or world war z, from which i've taken a couple ideas. review, it'd be greatly appreciated. **

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My boots sloshed lazily in the puddles, my arms hanging at my sides. The rain was blinding. I didn't know if zombies relied on their sight as much, but it seemed impossible for any creature being able to see through the torrents. My hair was drenched and sticking to my face while I splashed around, aimless and lethargic, subconsciously looking for somewhere safe to close my eyes in repose.

I was stumbling down a deserted road in a pre-war deserted town. The smaller the population of people was before the war, the less likely there were many zombies around, I wondered hopefully.

My pistols felt like anchors in my belt, my AK-47 swinging idly at my side. It was empty of ammo, but I couldn't seem to detach myself from it.

The gash in my stomach was beginning to tear. Blood seeped through my white tank top and stained my sweater. Despite the cold rain I was sweating; never a good sign.

After what felt like eternity treading down this seemingly endless road, the rain lightened enough to see a house in sight. Not too far away, though it would take longer than one would judge due to my mangled body. The muddy road ahead of me was lined with grass and rotten corn stalks that reached my chest. I hoped they wouldn't prove as much of a complication between me and my destination. I looked at the sky and through the thick, grey clouds I could see the orange sun fading into to horizon.

"Shit," I moaned. I pushed my feet harder into the mud, every step generating blinding pain throughout my torso. I grinded my teeth in agony. The last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a corn-field without any source of reliable light _or _sense of direction, especially at night.

I was moving at a fairly steady jog now, switching my weight from one leg to the other to help alleviate the pressure each step produced. I hoped no infected took notice of me. As far as I knew, there were none around. But I had to move faster, I couldn't take a chance. I was in no position to fight for my life at the moment. The pessimistic thoughts flared at the back of my head, telling me to just give up, fall to the ground right here and let whatever comes first, zombies or excessive bleeding, to kill me first.

I was closer now. I reached my arm out, reaching for what I couldn't seem to get to fast enough. With my arms extended and the pale, bloody look about me, I looked exactly like the things I was running from.

_Actually made it. Who knew I had the strength to even walk straight anymore?_

There was a path leading to the steps of the house. They didn't look safe to walk on, but the red steel door was beckoning me.

_So, I made it... But what next? What's the incentive to keep going? _

A stone appeared beneath my foot and threw me off balance. I tumbled, trying to regain my stability, and slid forward into the mud. My face landed in a murky puddle, rain pounding into my back. My whole torso was numb in the cold water. It actually helped the pain.

_Better to die here than at the hands of the enemy, right?_

My hand released it's hold on my weapon.

_I probably don't have the strength to stand up anyways._

I succumbed to the weakness, found myself agreeing with the severe pessimism inside my head.

_I'll be with them soon._

I'd been holding my breath too long. I sucked in greedily, only to acquire a mouthful of muddy water. It caught in my throat and burned my nose. My head instinctively extracted itself from the mud and I rolled over onto my back, rain soaking the front of my clothes and blinding my vision. I was grimy, bloody and sweaty all over, I felt like death. The air stung my throat when I drew in frantic breaths.

I didn't come this far to die. They would want me to keep going.

This roused me. It took all I had to grab hold of my weapon, and use it as a cane to heave myself from the ground. I leaned all my weight on it and limped the rest of the way to the front steps, practically dragging myself towards the steel door.

Were the doors of other safe houses this heavy? Did it always take this long to pull it shut behind me?

After I sealed the metal bar across the door, I turned to face the blackness of the safe house. Farm house, to be exact. I shook my flashlight, forcing a weak glow from it, and waved it from wall to wall. The air was stale, dust floating steadily in the air, coating the toppled over furniture that hasn't been touched in what looked like forever.

I wobbled towards the slightly ajar refrigerator, having saw a thin beam of light cast on the wooden floors. The light was still on. Was there somebody still around to keep the power running?

My dry throat ached as I wobbled over to the kitchen sink. I could hardly muster enough strength to twist the rusted handle, but it was worth the effort when cold water came pouring out. I stuck my head under and drank the water eagerly, until my stomach felt as if it were about to explode. From the intake of too much water or the gash in my stomach, I couldn't tell. I ignored that my hands were caked in dirt and my clothes were camouflaged with mud and grime.

I stumbled back against the wall, blackness edging into my vision.

The fruitlessness of my actions set in. The lack of reason, of motive behind everything I did. How easy it would have been for me to turn my pistol on myself without thinking twice.

The emptiness of the safe house threatened to swallow me hole. The kitchen counters danced in front of me as my vision swayed from left to right. I reached out for something to hold on to as dizziness, fatigue, guilt, and remembrance flared in my brain. My hand found the counter and I squeezed until my fingers hurt, shutting my eyes tightly and attempting to clear my head.

Misery and hopelessness clung at my hollow chest. I realized I just might not be strong enough to continue on my own. Without them. I felt delusive when I dragged myself towards a room in the back, to a corner that called out to me. It was just me, myself, and my recollection. I curled into a ball, pain -both physical and emotional- crushing me. I closed my eyes for a moment before I surrendered to the night.

_Francis' hand lay on top of mine, squeezing gently. "We made it." He stated breathlessly. _

_I leaned on his shoulder and felt his lips pressed into my hair. I took his hand in both of mine and closed my eyes. "Yeah, we did." It felt as if the weight of the world was lifted off of our shoulders. _

_Louis and Bill were sitting across from us in the small helicopter, their heads hanging back in exhaustion, but smiles playing on their lips nonetheless._

_Francis' looked down at me and our eyes met. He didn't say anything, but he looked like he wanted to. Instead, he smiled, and I could tell he was fighting back tears. _

_I pulled away and leaned my head on his shoulder, nestling in his warmth as my eyes closed in reverie of the hopeful days to come. _

_What seemed like only a few moments later, the helicopter was trembling and the flames were kindling a whole new battle._


	2. Chapter 2

**Bear with me.**

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I was jarred awake by stomping and extremely loud talking. "Look's like there's a body in here." A husky voice stated. To whom he was talking to I had no idea.

My head was still groggy from my frozen repose and I wasn't quite awake yet, so I couldn't find it in me, the strength, to move or alert them I was alive. How quickly they assumed I was dead. Did I really look that terrible?

"Oh, dear God..." A feminine voice sighed.

"Ellis," A booming voice demanded. "get rid of it while Nick and I patch ourselves up."

"Awh, shoot," A voice sounded from behind them in a southern drawl. "why d' I gotta touch a dead body?"

"You heard the man," The rough voice sounded again. "get to it, Overalls."

"They're not overalls..." I heard him mutter under his breath.

I was still struggling to resurface, to regain consciousness and get my body to move, but my muscles weren't working.

Footsteps came closer to me, and I saw through my eyelids a light flashing on my face. "Awh, she's cute, too."

Two warm, strong hands grabbed my wrists and jerked, pulling me along the floor. The tearing on my midsection and sudden movement of my frozen muscles compelled me to cry out. My eyes fluttered open, red spots clouding my vision, and the sickening noise that escaped my lips almost convinced me I had become a zombie.

"Jumpin' Jesus!" He stumbled backward in shock. "She's still alive!"

Four eyes were suddenly locked on me. It was only a couple milliseconds before the barrels of their guns were on me, too.

"Is she infected?" A man wearing a white suit asked the southerner anxiously.

"I ain't got no idea." He raised his hands defensively, still slightly startled. "Though, she ain't attackin' us..." He added.

"Check for a damn bite mark!" The large, black man demanded, he flinched as he wrapped a bandage around his forearm, which was immediately stained red.

"Let's not sit here discussing it like a bunch of assholes and just get rid of her before we're all infected!" The man in the suit offered angrily, cocking his shotgun.

The southerner stepped in, pushing the suit's gun down with his hand. "Naw, we can't just kill 'er! That's murder! That ain't right!"

Suit grew more frustrated, but turned it towards the southerner. "Everyone in the god damn world droppin' dead, and you're worried about your fucking _morals_?"

A black woman stepped in and looked at the man in the suit. "Nick, it matters. If she's not infected, what good would it do getting rid of her?"

I got rather tired of laying there, helpless and in pain, while they discussed my demise as if I wasn't there. The arm that was encircling my bleeding torso was stained with blood from my stomach, my other hand gripped the floor in pain. I looked up at them, their flashlights flashing across my face with my movement.

"No." I muttered through my teeth. "No, I'm not infected, I'm immune." I attempted to shout weakly. There were bite marks on my body as a testament. "I'm just hurt, badly. So, can you all please just shut the _fuck _up and either kill me or help me already?" My voice was shaky, wavering in pitch. I'd reached my limit, and it showed.

"See? I told you!" The southerner declared proudly, kneeling beside me.

The man in the suit, Nick, huffed indignantly and lowered his gun. "So, what? Is she going to stay with us?" He didn't exactly seem revolted by the idea, just naturally curious. With good reason.

I didn't hear the rest of the conversation because when the southerner gathered me in his arms I was digging my nails into his skin and trying not to scream.

"I-I'm sorry, miss!" He stuttered apologetically. "We need'ta fix you up, and I don't think it's gonna be pleasant, judgin' from yer hollers 'n all..."

The pain was rocketing through me. Every single vein was on fire. "I'm...I'm going to sleep now..." I mumbled incoherently into his chest. I felt him chuckle softly before I was pulled back under once again.

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When I came to, I heard muffled conversation downstairs. I assumed I was put in an upstairs bedroom. On the bedside table next to me, I noticed a container of pain pills and a bottle of water next to it. Though I wasn't feeling any immediate pain, the relief wouldn't last very long. Upon extracting myself from the blankets, I noticed my tank top was removed, leaving me in my undergarments, and my stomach was wrapped completely around. I sat up carefully, laying my hand gently on my abdomen, wincing.

I pushed the thought aside and swallowed a few pain pills, followed by me sucking down the entire water bottle. I hadn't known how thirsty I was.

There was a mirror across the room, but I decided not to look in it, somewhat afraid of who might be looking back. Instead, I settled with running my damp hands through my hair, pulling it back into a ponytail, to settle the mane that had sprouted overnight.

On the armchair in the corner were my clothes, folded and clean. _Clean. _For the most part, at least.

I didn't know why it bothered me that they had cleaned my clothes, but they were the only things I could really call mine. I slid into the stale, slightly damp cotton and laced up my boots. Usually my pistols were right beside me, if not in my belt already, but now they were nowhere in sight.

If those god damn people had even _touched _my weapons...

I felt rather guilty towards myself growing so angry with strangers, leave be the fact that they were strangers who'd pretty much saved my life...and washed my clothes.

I almost didn't want to go downstairs and face them. They saw me at my weakest. And for some odd, unfathomable reason, that bothered me. The apocalypse was not the time to look weak, let alone leave your life in the hands of total strangers.

The stairs creaked loudly beneath my feet and I kept a courageous look on my face as I made my way down. They were all in the kitchen. Four of them, whose faces I could now see better in the morning sun beaming through cracks in the barricaded windows.

They stared at me and I stared back, everybody sizing me up, and I them. This mini-showdown lasted all of few seconds before I discontinued it amicably. "I've noticed you took it upon yourself to wash my clothes..." My words came out more sour than intended.

The pretty black woman was about to speak up, instead a southern drawl drowned her out. "Well, y'know, they were awful dirty. 'N nobody likes dirty clothes...Unless y'do, a'course. In which case, I'm sorry." He babbled awkwardly, his full lips pulled into a half smile.

Rochelle shot him an amused look before her eyes drifted back towards me. She extended her hand and we shook. "I'm Rochelle."

Another hand replaced hers, a thick hand, more like a paw, clad in leather, fingerless gloves. I looked up to meet his eyes. "Friends call me Coach."

I nodded, and looked at the next person. The man in the white suit stood beside Coach, the one who was just so darn happy to have me here in the first place, who was so eager to dispose of my still warm and very much alive body without at least kicking me or poking me with a stick. I didn't hold it against him, though, I probably would have done the same thing. I extended my hand towards him, and a sly smile played at the edge of his lips. "Nick." He stated simply.

"'N I'm Ellis," A warm, sturdy hand grabbed a hold of mine. Our eyes met and a breathtaking smile stretched across his young face. He couldn't have been much older than me, though this whole apocalypse had probably aged him. His personality was still just as bright. He continued awkwardly. "Some people call me El, but I think that sounds like a girl's name. Though, you can call me El, if you want...but I'd prefer Ellis."

Oh, southern hospitality. "I'm Zoey." I said to all of them.

His hand clasped mine longer than necessary before Rochelle piped in awkwardly. "Zoey, it's not exactly gourmet, but would...you like something to eat?"

I could practically feel Nick's disapproving glare. But the thought of food quickly overshadowed that.

I dropped my hand to my side, and turned towards Rochelle. "There's...food here?"

Rochelle smiled. Nick and Coach had retreated to the table, Nick spreading cards and seemed to be lecturing Coach on the dynamics of poker. Coach shook his head impatiently, to which Nick slammed an irritated fist on the table, half-shouting, "It's not that god damn hard, Coach!" Coach shouted back. "You know what's hard? Football!"

Rochelle answered my question. "Sure, if you want to call it that."

The pessimistic side of me protested, wanting to get a move on and just go somewhere. But something else told me to stay. To shut up and enjoy the rarity that was company... It couldn't hurt, right? Besides, I didn't have a plan. I didn't even have a set destination. "Yeah." I answered despite myself. My stomach was so empty it was gnawing away at itself.

Rochelle nodded, her gaze shifting wearily towards the two men at the table before she turned and disappeared behind the counter. Ellis and I stood awkwardly for a moment, before I turned and wiped the dust from a stool and taking a seat at the breakfast nook. Ellis leaned on his arms, facing me.

"Can I ask you what happened?" He inquired hopefully.

"No." I answered immediately. He seemed taken aback, and I quickly corrected my tone. "It's...quite a long story."

"I ain't got nothin' but time, sugar." He prodded.

"I don't think we're quite at that level of intimacy yet." I stated, ignoring Ellis' reaction to my choice of words.

He raised his eyebrows, asking without words. Persistence just so happens to be one of my pet-peeves. But I decided to let it slide, considering we'd just met.

I just shook my head fervently. Ellis sighed, his warm breath splashing across my face. His eyes shot to the side, where Nick and Coach were playing cards. Or, Coach was trying to... Nick was staring at Ellis, one eyebrow raised suspiciously, before looking at me. He chuckled and whispered something to Coach, who laughed rather loudly, before looking at Ellis and nodding in agreement with whatever Nick said.

I caught Ellis' blush before he looked down, the brim of his hat covering most of his face. I tried to hide my amusement, but it was futile. When Ellis looked back up at me, I was smirking.

"What is it?" He asked, somewhat irritated, but smiling nonetheless.

I shook my head again, smile fading as the moment passed.

Ellis hurried to change the subject rather hastily, "How old are you?"

"I'm 20." I answered immediately, as if I'd rehearsed it.

"Shoot, really?" He looked genuinely surprised. "If I hadda guess, I woulda said you was older than that!"

"Really?" I asked, rather intrigued. "Why?"

"Idunna, you seem...y'act, older." He shrugged indifferently. "From what I've seen so far, I guess." He added.

"And how old are you?" I leaned forward on the counter.

"I'm 23." He stated proudly, as if he'd worked his whole life to be able to answer this question.

Rochelle placed something in front of me. I didn't know what it was. It definitely came from a can. I sniffed, it smelled alright. Edible, I hoped.

"I...don't have a fork for you." Rochelle said, trying not to chuckle.

I just shook my head, brushing it off. My taste buds were dormant for such a long time I doubt they even worked anymore. I tilted the bowl against my lips and swallowed it's contents. It was cold, but satisfying nonetheless.

"Jesus, you hungry?" Ellis commented, watching me swallow almost the entire bowl.

Immediately, I felt rather ashamed of myself being so animalistic in front of him but hunger replaced manners. "It's just...been some time since I've had some decent food." I shrugged.

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Were you always alone?" Ellis asked me, his eyes narrowing.

I choked on the blob I was chewing, forcing myself to swallow it. It took everything I had not to throw it all up onto the counter.

"You okay?" Ellis asked, arms out. As if he would slide across the nook and perform Heimlich maneuver if I gave him the green light.

"No," I swallowed roughly. "no, I wasn't always alone."

"Can I ask what happened?" He face was expectant. "To your friends?" He added.

My eyes were glued to my unfinished bowl of goo, which suddenly didn't look so appetizing anymore. I shook my head slowly, not looking up into his eyes. From his silence, I could tell he knew not to ask any more questions.

"I'm sorry..." He began, lowering his head to meet my downward gaze. "I didn't mean to hurt yer feelins' by askin..."

I rose robotically, pushing the stool away with the back of my legs. I just shook my head dismissively at Ellis, looking at him for a brief moment before turning towards the three who were seated at the table.

"Where are my weapons?" I asked, interrupting their boisterous conversation. For some reason, I was suddenly, viciously angry. At Ellis, at Rochelle, at absolutely anything and everything.

Nick shot me an irritated look for interrupting their game, Coach looked at me then around the room, probably wondering the same thing, and Rochelle stared at me, her face dripping with sympathy.

"Why?" Rochelle inquired, shifting so that she was leaning out from beside Coach.

I dug my fingernails into my palm. Who did she think she was? "Look, I appreciate what you did but I'd like my guns so I can be on my way. Where are they?" I half-shouted through gritted teeth.

"Oh, sweetie, you can't leave with that gash on your belly! You oughta stay here another night..." Rochelle attempted to compromise.

"I can't stay here anymore." My voice cracked, "I have to leave." My hands, balled in tight fists, began to shake. "Where are my pistols?" I demanded. I could feel Ellis' heavy silence a few feet behind me, still standing by the counter.

Rochelle seemed utterly unphased. Coach was staring at Nick, whose eyes were glued to me. He watched the debacle with humor in his eyes.

Rochelle shook her head slightly. My face grew hot, my underarms prickling.

"Fine, I don't need any weapons!" I turned on my heel and stomped through the kitchen, flinging my fist out before me and toppling over a pile of heavy boxes that was stacked beside the fridge. What was in them, I didn't care. It felt oddly releasing when I knocked those over, being able to bestow even an iota of the anger and pain -not just at them, but the world in general- that I'd felt inside.

Why did this have to happen? Why did they have to be taken from me? All I could do was ask why. There was no justifiable reason for any of this, this _shit _of an apocalypse.

I stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, everybody's eyes burning holes in my back, with seven large boxes scattered at my feet, blocking an immediate, dramatic exit and granting me with an awkward, stumbling one. My palms had crescents embedded in the soft flesh after having dug my nails so hard into them. My breathing was heavy, my heart felt as if it weighed a ton.

A quick look over my shoulder assured me that they were indeed staring at me like I was a mad woman. The look in Ellis' eyes almost made me regret my behavior. It wasn't fear, of course not. It was pity.

Instead of apologizing and acting my age, I stepped over the boxes, trying not to trip, and progressed towards the exit.

Behind me, I heard Rochelle mutter heatedly to Nick.

Just as I reached for the bar securing the steel door, an iron grip enclosed my bicep, jerking me away from my destination.

"What the-?" I demanded, stumbling to regain my balance.

"You're not leaving, doll." Nick whispered into my ear. I twisted in his grip towards him and tried to pry his fingers off of my arm, to no avail.

"Why?" I shouted. "Why can't you guys just leave me alone?"

"Listen here, kid." Nick stated, with some hostility. I suppressed my urge to fight against his hold on me, but instead stood still, staring at him. He continued in aggressive whispers, obviously fed up with my antics. "No way are you goin' to survive out there on your own. Now, we don't know what happened to you and frankly _I _don't care, but you're here now. And as long as you're here, you're stayin' here." I opened my mouth to protest, but he hushed me. "This is the apocalypse, get it? Not prom night gone wrong. You gotta stick together, whether you like us or not." He was referring to the himself and the other three, who watched us with a mixture of intrigue and indifference.

With that, he released my arm and shoved me slightly. From his pocket he pulled a cigarette and a lighter, puffing the smoke in my face before retreating to the table. I stood there, shaking in anger and pain, facing the four people who hated me yet wanted me here at the same time.

_This is as good as it's gonna get, _I told myself.

After a few silent seconds, I found it in me to talk. I stuttered at first, trying to think how to phrase what I was feeling at the moment. The best I spat out was, "I'm sorry..." Before turning my back to them and bounding up the steps, into the room and bed that I woke up in this morning.

_"Francis!" I shouted for him when his hand slipped from my grip, holding onto the ceiling of the helicopter for dear life. It was starting to spin uncontrollably in the air, the ground coming closer every second. My hair was whipping me in the face, so it was rather hard to see, but I saw enough._

_The guns that were perched beside our seats slid out the side of the helicopter, along with bags and boxes. Both of my hands were gripping the safety belt of my seat so tightly, my fingers ached. What the hell was going on? _

_I was practically hanging out of the helicopter, sliding around left and right which each twist of the chopper. "Francis!" I shouted helplessly. _

_I finally lifted my head and was greeted with an appalling sight. Louis and Francis were wrestling with a zombie, Bill seated in the pilots seat, pushing buttons and pulling levers, trying to figure out how to work it. _

_The pilot was infected, yet he still extracted us for evac. "Francis!" I yelled again. His arms were out, holding the zombies face away from his while Louis held his lower torso tightly, to keep him from moving._

_"Zo, hold on!"_


	3. Chapter 3

**HAAAAAAAY. Enjoy.**

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A few soft raps at my door roused me. I rose my head groggily. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open and Ellis poked his head through. "Zoey?" He whispered doubtfully. I couldn't make out his face in the setting sun.

I pushed myself up and leaned against the wall, rubbing my eyes. "You can come in."

He walked in almost reluctantly and closed the door quietly after him, keeping one arm behind his back. "If y'don't want company, I can leave..."

I shook my head vigorously. "No, stay. I don't mind." I aimed at being more amicable towards Ellis, and the others, after my tantrum earlier. The last thing they needed was a mentally unstable tag-along. Though they insisted, something still felt unnecessary. I was in no authority to consider myself a member of their 'pack', I had no idea how tight they were with each other.

They'd help me get along and then I'd go off on my own. Or so I planned.

Ellis smiled brightly at me. "So," I continued. "what'd you need?"

He ducked his head and shifted his weight, slightly uncomfortable. His voice dropped in pitch. "Just came t'talk, you know...Shoot the breeze."

I forced a smile at him, not wanting to offend his sweet personality. What I wasn't really ready to admit, even to myself, was that I subconsciously needed a friend, and didn't want to risk losing a potential one. "Whatya got there?" I inquired, referring to the item he held behind his back.

"Aw, man, almost fergot." Ellis beamed, holding up a large case of Miller Light beer. "Man had at least a'hunnerd cases a'beer lay'n 'round! I swear," He chuckled, sitting at the end of the bed. "we hit the motherload with this place. Almost don't wanna leave."

He popped one open and held it out to me. As I reached for it, he pulled back slightly. "Hold on a hot minute," His eyes narrowed at me, pointing the mouth of the bottle in my direction accusingly. "I ain't so sure yer old enough..."

"Oh, please." I refuted, reaching out and capturing it from him. "I don't see any cops around." I took a large sip, sighing in satisfaction at the crisp, familiar taste.

"Yeah," Ellis took a swig, and then burped with his mouth closed. "S'pose yer right."

"I usually am." I joked, and Ellis shot me a doubtful, sideways glance.

"What time is it, anyway?" I requested, completely unaware of how long I was sleeping.

"Uh," Ellis looked at the ceiling, pondering briefly. "well, you came up here early in the mornin', maybe around nine or so, 'n the sun's just settin', so I'd say...maybe 7 or 8."

I nodded, feeling a sudden pang to address my behavior from this morning. I let a couple moments of silence pass before I worked up the courage to say something. "Ellis," He looked at me, eyebrows raised. "about earlier..." I left the sentence hanging, thinking of how to phrase it.

"Don't worry 'bout it!" Ellis exclaimed. "Shit, I can't hardly blame you." He tilted the beer bottle into his mouth, I followed suit.

"Really?" I wondered. He nodded. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know what happened to you, er how bad it was, but you ain't the only one who lost people. 'N lost a 'bit of their minds, along with it." Ellis chuckled, shakin' his head. "Shoot, I thought'chu were tame compared to the other shitfits I've seen." He took off his hat and ran a hand through his light brown hair, which curled slightly at the ends.

Something inside me lifted, and I felt myself relaxing a little more. "So, nobody downstairs thinks I'm insane?"

Ellis laughed out loud. When he calmed himself, he looked at my slightly annoyed expression. "I ain't tryin' to patronize yer worries er nothin', I'm just sayin' that the whole worlds gone insane. They're really nice folks," He reassured me of the fellow survivors downstairs. "they'd hardly judge you for feelin' how you do durin' a shitstorm like this." Ellis nodded his head towards the barred window, referring to the zombie apocalypse that's practically devoured the whole world.

"Are you sure?" I prodded.

"Y'know," He chuckled, shaking his head. "Fer a girl with a couple loose screws, you're pretty insecure." He proceeded to laugh, and even slapped himself on the knee. An image of him sitting on a front porch playing the banjo popped into my head.

"Yeah, that's a real knee-slapper." I said sarcastically, laughing along with him nonetheless.

A silence fell over us. Not an uncomfortable one. A thoughtful one. My mind was literally on speed, so many things I wanted to say but knew I shouldn't.

"Ellis," I grabbed his attention. "how do...you deal with it?"

"With what?" He questioned, grabbing another beer, popping it open and handing it to me. Then grabbed a second one for himself.

"Y'know..." I paused, uncertain. "with everything...that you lost. How do you not think about it? How can you act so...normal, upbeat?"

Ellis shot me a sincere, meaningful look. I could tell my question caught him off guard. Something flickered in his eyes. Sadness.

"Oh, shit." I waved my hand dismissively. "Never mind. I'm sorry, what a stupid fucking question-"

"You're a whole lot nicer than I first thought." He chuckled, and I looked at him quizzically. His amused expression vanished, replaced with thoughtfulness. "But, nah, I don't mind talking about it." His cheeks grew puffy with air, and he heaved a large sigh, leaning his elbows down on his knees. I waited patiently for him to go on.

"To be honest, I haven't really had the chance t'think 'bout it. Any of it." He took a long sip of beer. "Ever since day one, I've been busy try'n to survive. 'N usually people think 'bout stuff when they're fallin' asleep, but e'erytime we got to a safehouse, I was so god damn exhausted I'd pass out the minute we walked in!" He shook his head earnestly. "My mind hasn't been on one thing except killin' zombies." He paused thoughtfully. "I guess that's my secret. Don't think 'bout shit...Just kill all sons'a'bitches." A sincere smile played on the edge of his lips, his eyes on the wall across from him.

Despite his calm demeanor, I could almost feel the anguish rolling off of him. Immediately, I felt terrible. Ellis' head was ducked, his expression hidden in the darkness. Before I could address the situation, he chugged down the other half of his beer, then reached for another one. "Damn..." He mumbled quietly to himself, but I caught it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling absolutely atrocious for making him think about it when he was doing so good at keeping the bad thoughts out. I pushed myself off the wall, moved across the bed and sat next to him, laying an awkwardly comforting hand on his shoulder. "Ellis..." I whispered. He sniffled. "I'm sorry..."

"Damn," He chuckled humorlessly. "I just met you and you already got me bitchin' like a girl..."

"Don't worry," I attempted to joke. "drunken words are sober thoughts, right?" There was so much more I'd wanted to ask him, so much more I wanted to say. But I knew I shouldn't do either, despite my intense urge to talk about everything.

He laughed and raised his head, drinking more of his beer. "Yeah," He said after he hiccuped. "well, you know what they say..."

My hand slid from his shoulder and I moved over to the side a bit, for some space between us. I looked at him quizzically. "No, what do they say?"

"Shit," He said after a moment, laughing. "I ain't got no idea."

We both laughed together briefly before it died, leaving us sitting there silently, drinking beer after beer.

* * *

"So," I began. At least another hour passed, and there were only a couple beers left. The mood lightened significantly after Ellis' emotional discharge. I kept apologizing, but he admitted he needed it. I let the subject drop after that. "what were you up to before...this?"

Ellis smiled at the memory of better days. "I was a mechanic down in Savannah. My buddy Keith and I ran a shop together, kinda had a band goin', too...Y'know, I wonder what he's up to now..." I lost him in his train of thought. After a couple moments he looked back at me. "How bout'chu?"

"I was going to college for journalism."

"That's...exciting." He said sarcastically, before bursting out into laughter. I watched him, amused. After the initial tumult of levity had passed, Ellis said, voice completely serious, "Naw, I'm just kiddin', it ain't really that exciting...Or is it? Man, I wouldn't know. I ain't never been to college. Or set foot on a college campus. Is it anythin' like in the movies?"

"Depends on the movie." I shrugged.

Ellis looked down thoughtfully. "What was college like?"

"Boring, repetitive. Hell, I was nearly flunking out anyways."

"Why's that?"

"I've never been very erudite, I guess. I learn through experience, and that was the last thing I was getting at school."

Ellis nodded, mulling this over.

"Why couldn't you go to school?"

He laughed. "I think just takin' a look at me answers that question." Before I could object, he changed the subject. "Is that where you were when all this shit went down?"

"The earlier days of the infection, I was at home. It was summer break. I had just drove back to school in the fall when it had gotten bad enough for evacuations." I thought of the mess I had caused, and left behind with my family. They pleaded, urged, nearly locked me in a room to keep me from leaving. Nobody could get through to me. I hadn't bought into the idea of an apocalypse yet. And when I did, it was already too late.

"Shit, so you were alone?"

"For a little while, before I met..." I stopped myself short before I blurted out their names. "People."

"Y'know, you may not be 'erudite'," He air quoted. "but you sure as hell are smart to be able to make it out here for so long."

Before I could even open my mouth to answer, we heard Nick's voice from the bottom of the stairs, shouting at us to 'shut the hell up or I'll kill you,' followed by, 'I mean it'.

"Awh, don't worry 'bout him. He's just cranky..." Ellis reassured me.

I nodded. Nick must be trying to sleep. "Shit, what time is it?" I asked suddenly.

"Uh..." Ellis stood, opening the door and yelled down the staircase to somebody. "Aye, what time is it?" He hollered. The hallway was pitch dark.

"It's half-past shut the fuck up and go to bed!" Nick yelled from the room adjacent to ours, his voice muffled by the wall between us.

Ellis closed the door and turned back to me. "Did you catch that?"

I nodded tiredly, my lids heavy. Ellis returned to his spot next to me.

I stared at the empty beer bottle between my hands. "Well," I yawned greatly. "we'd better get to bed..." I was going to say: If we're heading out tomorrow; but I still wasn't sure what the deal was with me and them.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired, come to think of it..." He began to stand, but I grabbed his hand. He looked down at it with question in his eyes.

"Hold on," I stood up and faced him, dropping his hand. "am I...are we...do I still have to leave?" Was the best I could put it.

Ellis' looked shocked. "Why in the world would y'think that?"

I decided to just say it, instead of dropping unsatisfying questions here and there. "I don't want to be a tag-along. I'd hate to be a nuisance."

Ellis' hand covered my mouth. "Shh. Just, shh." He laughed, probably at the stupidity of my current worry, and shook his head. His hand dropped from my face.

"Zoey, we may have just met but I think we can be good friends..." He began, sounding factual. I agreed, even though that is irrelevant to what I was asking. I blamed the beer. "'N you ain't botherin' nobody, and one more person to help eachother out, well, that's a godsend! We gotta stick together, it's the fuckin' apocalypse!" He bellowed out enthusiastically. "So...yer stayin' with us, whether you like it or not. I hereby," Hiccup. "forbid you..." Pause as he held in a belch. "...to leave."

I felt the corner of my lips pulling up in a smirk at Ellis' words, and his glazed over expression. "Alright." I said simply. My intake of alcohol had severely impaired my judgment, I would never have put myself out there like that, leaving my status with them in his hands. I wasn't even sure myself.

"Oh, one more thing." I added before he turned to leave. "You're going to remember all of this tomorrow?" I was honestly curious. Despite the uplifted mood he had put me in, I knew I'd regret telling him certain things about me.

"Shoot," He chuckled. "what, y'think I can't handle my beer? I'll remember this 'n then some...other stuff."

I wanted to believe him, but the empty case of beer next to the bed convinced me otherwise.

Ellis' hand landed on my shoulder roughly. "G'night."

I patted his hand, smiling earnestly. "Thanks for...hangin' out with me." That's all I could say without sounding cheesy.

"Anytime, sugar." He gave my shoulder a gentle shake before pulling away. He stumbled backwards towards the door, keeping his eyes on me and a shit-eating grin on his face while he turned the doorknob and disappeared into the black hallway.

_Bill pulled a lever, I made out the word Emergency above it. The helicopter straightened out, but was still free-falling towards the ground._

_It was an opportunity I wasn't going to pass. I had a tight enough grip on the seatbelt, so I was able to reach down and extract my pistol from my belt._

_The zombie was still thrashing against Louis and Francis. Bill was oblivious to them in the pilots seat, sweat dripping down his face in desperation._

_The helicopter was still long enough for me to aim, something I've grown better at, and my finger was just about to apply pressure to the trigger when the helicopter stalled. It whipped around, and so did I._

_The jerk from the helicopter compelled me to push the trigger, but I wasn't aiming at my directed target anymore._


	4. Chapter 4

My head ached and my mouth was terribly dry, accompanied with a horrible taste, when I awoke the next morning. I was facedown in the pillow, completely clothed, my shoes still on. Outside the barred window I could see the sun, which according to it's location and brightness, had just risen.

I let my head fall back on the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut on my dancing vision.

Eventually, before I could fall back asleep, I rolled over and slid onto the cold, wooden floor. It felt nice against my pounding skull. I groaned and rose into a sitting position. I lifted my shirt and examined the bandage. It had slightly torn throughout the night, and little specks of blood decorated it. I decided it hadn't needed to be changed yet.

My legs were still slightly wobbly, I had to grip the bed for balance upon getting to my feet. I needed water. Ice cold water.

I felt like, and probably even looked like, a zombie as I walked to the door, dragging my feet. I shook my head in a futile attempt to clear my slightly blurry vision.

When I stepped into the hallway, I looked about me. It was dark since the sky was still a pale blue. Dust collected on the wooden banister, frames on the wall hung lopsided. The safe house was eerily silent.

The mirror in the bathroom was dusty. I ran a hand across it, looking into my own eyes. They looked a lot darker, meaner. I didn't focus too much on my features, they weren't so important to me anymore.

The water was ice cold against my face and extremely refreshing. I held my hands under the faucet and ran them through my hair until my tangles were combed through and every strand was treated. I rinsed my mouth out at least twenty times, using a makeshift toothbrush that proved somewhat useful.

The whole time I was attempting to freshen up, something inside my head was bothering me. Like an annoying tick. I remember contemplating something the night before, but I couldn't remember what. After I scrubbed my teeth for the millionth time, it hit me.

I had to go back.

There was a pang of hope that maybe they were still alive. Maybe we had been looking for each other, except we traveled in opposite directions. We were seriously impaired at the time, that would explain lack of direction, leading to our separation. They had to be alive. If I made it, they had to. They were so much stronger, so much braver than me. I had to go back to the crash sight and look for any sign of them.

When I felt slightly more fresh physically but severely off-balance emotionally and my headache had lessened to a dull aching, I stepped quietly back into the deserted hallway. My head was filled with my newfound hope, completely set in believing that they were alive. I contemplated going back to sleep until somebody else woke up, but the dragging of a chair across linoleum drew my attention.

I expected it to be Rochelle, tossing together garbage for everybody to eat, or maybe Coach doing whatever, but not who I saw sitting at the kitchen table.

Nick sat tiredly, hands clasped on the table, a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips. His white suit jacket hung on the chair behind him, leaving him in the collared blue-button down he wore under it. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular, experienced forearms.

I felt somewhat intimidated by him. It would be awkward talking with him, with us both being rather disagreeable people. But this was the apocalypse, not high school.

I sat across the small kitchen table from him, clasping my hands tight in front of me. Smoke wafted into my nostrils, and I couldn't help the sneer that flashed across my face. Nick smirked.

"What?" He asked.

"Where are we going?"

He ashed his cigarette and proceeded to answer my question. "Florida."

"What?" I asked, surprised. "Why Florida? New Orleans is still evacuating, though."

"Have you been there?" Nick asked sourly. I shook my head. "Well, we were. It's done. Abandoned and bombed. Anybody that was there is either rotting, moaning, or burnt to a crisp."

My throat constricted for a split second. The last time I spoke to my friends they were going to New Orleans. I didn't go with them. I wasn't convinced of the severity of the infection, it seemed surreal at the time. Now it was my reality. I cleared my throat. "So...what's in Florida?"

"Apparently there's another evac that's still working. Highly doubt it though, probably same fate as New Orleans. Sunshine-shitting Ellis won't give up hope in it. Starts making noises if somebody tries to argue with him."

I figured Nick was the only one arguing.

"Well, one has to hope. Maybe it's the real deal." I shrugged optimistically.

"If we even survive the way there. It's a hell of a long way to go."

At this point, the trip to Florida was the least of my worries. "So...from here, which direction would that take us?"

Nick pointed his finger towards the window we were seated next to, in the direction I came from, and a ball formed in my stomach. If we stuck to the general direction, I may have my chance to scour the area. And it was a huge plus that I wouldn't be alone, I'd have somebody to watch out for me. The thought was slightly reassuring.

After a lengthy silence in which I was busy mulling this over, Nick asked, "Where'd you come from?"

"Pennsylvania."

"No, shit?" Nick looked taken aback. "All the way from up there? How the hell'd you survive?"

I bit my inner cheek hard. I was wondering the same thing. "We were choppered out, I can't remember from where. Nowhere near here, though. I guess we were heading towards New Orleans, too."

"We?" Nick wondered aloud, flicking his cigarette ash into an ashtray.

Nick must have missed the pleading look in my eyes to avoid the subject because he inquired further. "I take it your friends didn't make it." And then he chuckled.

If Rochelle hadn't chosen that time to come down the stairs, I was sure I would have reached across the table, taken Nick's cigarette from his hand and shoved it down his throat.

"Good morning, guys." Rochelle yawned.

"Mornin', Ro." Nick said. I didn't answer, still seething at Nick's petty little comment. "Any food left?" He asked her.

"If you boys didn't eat all of it yesterday." She said accusingly, and began to scour the cabinets.

I was suddenly fidgety to get out of the safe house and get a move on. The anxiety to investigate the possibility they survived swelled. I unknowingly drummed my fingers in impatience.

"Cut that out," Nick ordered.

"Cut what out?" I lifted my head from my hand and looked at him.

"This," He beat his fingers on the table, mocking me with a childish expression on his face.

Ignoring him, I turned towards Rochelle. "Are they still sleeping?" I asked, referring to Coach and Ellis.

"Beats me." Her response was slightly muffled from inside the cabinet. "I supposed we should wake-"

"COACH! ELLIS!" I bellowed through the house. Rochelle jumped in surprise, banging her head on the inside of the cabinet.

Nick flinched at my sudden outburst. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, kid. Are you trying to get us eaten alive?"

I ignored him. Coach came in from the back room, his eyes thick with sleep. He stretched, resulting in numerous cracking noises throughout his body. "Morning, ya'll."

"Morning." Both Rochelle and Nick cited in unison. I was about to run upstairs to wake Ellis when I heard his slow footsteps from the floor above, followed by the creak of an opening door. I began drumming my fingers again.

"Are you all right?" Rochelle asked, leaning against the counter.

"A little anxious, is all." I shrugged casually. Instead of looking nonchalant I looked a little epileptic.

"More like annoying." Nick muttered. I shot him a look.

Five minutes later, Ellis skipped down the stairs with an enthusiastic smile on his face. "Mornin', ladies, gents." He smiled, sliding his hat on his head. "What's for breakfast, darlin'?" He asked Rochelle.

"You're in an awful good mood..." She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

Ellis just shrugged and addressed the tuna cans Rochelle managed to dig up on the counter. "Tuna?" He shook his head. "That reminds me of this one time me and my buddy Keith went fishin' at the creek-"

"Ellis," Nick cut him off. "nobody wants to hear about you fuckin' your cousin down by the boondocks, alright?"

I bit my lip to hide my smile.

* * *

It was bittersweet reunion between my pistols and I. They were slick in my palms as we made our way down the road. The population had long since thinned-out, only a couple straggling infected here and there, but the respite would be short-lived. The direction we were taking would lead us right into a town.

Despite the heat, Nick left his white suit jacket on. Sweat was dripping down my forehead. After some time under the sun, I tore off my sweater and tied it around my waist. I ignored the aching in my gut.

I had no idea the exact spot we crashed, so I was constantly on watch for familiar landmarks or pieces of metal scattered around. Conversation was scarce. Everybody was sweaty and hungry, aching from previous injuries and desperate for rest. It seemed we could never get enough.

"You know, sometimes I wonder...if four regular ol' people like us could make it this far...what about e'rybody else?" Ellis suddenly asked, breaking the heavy silence. I felt somewhat thankful. The silence was making me nervous. It made every gunshot, every scream in the distance sound fifty times louder.

Nick chuckled. "You gotta lot to learn, kid."

"Whatya mean?" Ellis asked.

Coach answered. "I think what Nick is sayin' is, you're pointin' your guns at them zombies while everybody else is stickin' their knife in your back."

"Well said." Nick commended him.

"So, you're sayin us people killed more people then them zombies?" Ellis wondered.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. If people could get their brains to work in groups and actually get shit done, maybe this wouldn't be the case.

Rochelle shot me a side-glance. I supposed this was the norm.

"Well, Nick, I'm gonna have to disagree with you." Ellis said, shaking his head.

"Like I care."

"You ain't always right, you know. I think we did everythin' we coulda done...just didn't turn out in our favor. Bad luck."

"I don't wanna hear no more of this shit." Coach interrupted, effectively shutting the two of them up. "It happened, no point dwelling on what coulda happened now."

A noise in the distance caught my attention. I stopped walking. "Guys, stop."

"What's the hold up?" Coach asked, turning around.

"Do you hear that?" My eyebrows furrowed as I listened. The air was stiff. The graveled road beneath us began to tremble.

A deafening roar tore through the heavy southern air.

"Tank!" Ellis bellowed. "Run!" He grabbed my arm. I reached behind me and took hold of Rochelle's hand, pulling her along. I could feel my midsection beginning to tear open.

"Where is it?" I shouted as we ran. "Where?"

"Shut up and run!" Nick shouted.

I dared a look over my shoulder. The Tank was running up the road behind us. And Coach wasn't there anymore. Panic struck as I noticed his feet being dragged into the cornstalks. "Coach!"

I tore away from Ellis, drawing the machete from my belt and disappearing into the stalks. I followed the flattened path made by Coach's body towards him thrashing in the constriction of a Smoker. "Zoey!" I heard Rochelle shout from the road.

I sliced the tongue wrapped around Coach and he fell onto the floor. The Smoker howled at me. I unloaded my pistol into it's face. It's long, mutilated corpse fell into a heap beside Coach.

"God dammit, get this off a'me!" Coach shouted. As I bent towards him to cut off the tendrils, I turned to see the Tank barreling towards us, swinging a massive fist. Behind him was Nick. "Zoey, duck!"

I fell on top of Coach, covering his large body with mine. As the Tank swiveled back towards Nick, who was unloading his entire SMG on it [the scene brought an image of Scarface into my head], I jumped to my feet and slid my machete as hard as I could across it's massive back. A deep gash opened, showering me with blood. It roared furiously, but continued pounding the earth towards Nick. Coach had managed to escape the Smoker tendrils. He pushed me to the floor as he charged towards the Tank. In his hand was a blinking pipe bomb. He screamed murderously as he shoved it deep into the gash on the back of the Tank, backing away before it went off. I shielded myself with my arms.

The blood and infected brain matter seemed to fall slowly. My vision was lopsided and my ears ringing from the blast. "Coach!" I bellowed, though I couldn't hear myself over the noise in my ears. I was shaking violently, scared and sick. I pulled myself along the flattened and burnt cornstalks to where Coach was lying, unconscious. Ellis and Nick were pulling him to his feet. Nick's formerly white suit was splattered in blood, but not nearly as much as Coach and I, who were practically next to the Tank is it exploded.

The ringing in my ears subsided and shouting replaced it. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!" I heard Rochelle shouting. I felt arms pluck me from the ground, my vision still dizzy. I leaned heavily on Rochelle as she dragged me through the cornstalks behind Nick, Ellis, and Coach. I looked down at my blood-coated self. I didn't know where most of the blood came from: the Tank or the re-opened gash in my stomach.

As we broke through the last of the stalks, I tore from Rochelle and collapsed onto the gravel, heaving over and puking what little was in my stomach, unable to conceal my terror. I shook violently from head to toe, and continued to dry-heave, though nothing surfaced.

Rochelle was bent over Coach, who himself was beginning to awaken. He smiled through his blood-soaked face. "Hey, Ro."

She smiled through her tears of panic. "You alright?"

"Never been better. Though, my knee be hurtin' something fierce." Coach, flinched when he tried to move it. The front of his shirt was slightly burnt, small holes decorating the front.

Nick fell into a sitting position, his SMG beside him, breathing heavily. He looked down at himself. "My God damn suit!" He scoffed, putting on a front. I noticed his hands shaking when he attempted to rub some crusted blood off if his suit.

"Uh, guys," Ellis said, leaning over, his hands on his knees. "I think we got a problem..."

We all turned to where he was looking to see a horde barreling down the road towards us. One sob escaped my throat. We were in no position to take on a horde right now.

"Molotov out!" Ellis suddenly shouted, sending a Molotov far down the road. It landed right in front of the running horde, setting them ablaze and catching on the surrounding cornstalks, spreading quickly.

"Nice throw." I commented, still breathing heavily.

"Thank you." Ellis smiled crookedly, satisfied with himself.

"Dipshit, if the zombies don't get to us, the fire sure as hell will." Nick shouted, getting to his feet. "We gotta get the hell outta here, now!"

Nick ran to Rochelle, helping her heave Coach from the ground, draping Coach's burly arms over their shoulders as Ellis grabbed my forearms and plucked me from the ground, keeping a supportive arm around my aching waist. We limped the rest of the way down the road, a spreading fire and howling horde on our tails. I groaned with every step, my vision beginning to blur. I blacked out as we passed a sign that read: _Welcome to Mississippi._


	5. Chapter 5

I came to with the uncomfortable feeling of rocks digging into my back. Black spots still clouded my vision. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes. Gunfire sounded to my right, jarring me into a sitting position. Immediately, a bolt of pain radiated throughout my stomach.

"God damn." I mumbled, my voice raspy. The sun was beginning to set. I looked around me. We were perched atop a flat boulder on a rocky hill, surrounded by trees, easy to defend. We must have slinked further into the forest while I was unconscious. I felt nervous. What if we had strayed from the path? Would I be able to find the crash sight now?

Ellis was standing a few feet from me, his eyes in the scope of a hunting rifle. "Yippy-kai-aye mother fuckers! Ahahaha!" He exclaimed after dropping a few Z's.

To my left, Coach was sprawled on his back, snoring loudly. The left side of his face was slightly burnt, the skin pink and raw. Leaning up against the rocky wall was Nick, his bloody suit jacked balled up as a pillow for Coach, Rochelle leaning her head on his shoulder, her breathing slow and even. A breeze blew through the trees, and goose bumps rose on her arms.

I peeled my sweater off slowly, my entire torso stiff, and kneeled before her, wrapping it around the front of her body. She snuggled against it.

Nick would have made a sarcastic comment if his head wasn't lulling back in exhaustion. I pushed myself from the floor and stood beside Ellis, my arms cross against my chest to shield myself from the chilly breeze.

"Hey, you're up!" He said enthusiastically, still aiming his hunting rifle. "How ya' holdin' up?"

"Better than most." I shrugged. "How far did we go?"

"Kept mostly on the same road. After a while we decided we needed some rest 'n stuff, so we found ourselves a nice little hill." Ellis smiled. "You was out for a real long time, girl. You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Rochelle patched up your stomach again." Ellis said, shooting down another zombie.

"I know." I couldn't help but think she was a lot nicer to me than she ought to be. I felt I was the last person who deserved it. I smiled sheepishly. "How's Coach?"

"He was awake most a'the time. Was moanin' a lot, you know. Felt really bad, takes a lot of balls to do what he did to that Tank back there. Real admirable man, he is." He shot another zombie off in the distance. "Anyways, he's pretty burnt up. Not real bad, though. Fell asleep the minute we got up here." Ellis eyed the small cliff we were perched upon apprehensively. "Man, bein' in the woods like this reminds me of this one time me and my buddy Keith tried being homeless. We had a shopping cart and a cardboard box and we were sleeping in front of the Garage we worked at. It was fun until Paul decided to call the police..."

Nicks tired voice piped in behind us. "Ellis, if you don't shut up I am going to find this Keith, zombie or not, and wring his fucking neck."

Ellis flinched slightly at the thought of Keith behind a zombie. Our voices dropped to whispers after that.

I felt slightly reassured that Coach was alright. "So, did anybody else get hurt? Did you?"

Ellis shot me a look. "We were all a little shaken up, is all." Ellis said, yawning widely.

"Why don't you get a little rest, I'll keep watch for a while." I offered.

"Think you can handle it?" He chuckled.

It was my turn to shoot him a look.

* * *

I was up the rest of the night. After a while shooting zombies from a distance grew quite boring, so I needed something to keep me awake. I began tossing large rocks and pieces of bark laying around at the lonesome zombies wandering through the trees. They'd begin climbing up the rock and I'd let them think they had a chance before I blew their heads off, laughing. It was oddly releasing.

* * *

We set out not long after the sun rose. The faint orange glow shone through the trees. The area was fairly void of infected after all the fun I had overnight.

We moved through the trees in a tight circle. Nick and Ellis flanked the sides and I brought up the rear. Rochelle was leading the way next to Coach, who was more alert today.

Eventually we reached the gravel road and continued down it. Nick and Ellis had a little not-so friendly competition as to who could kill the most zombies in five minutes. The rest of us laughed at first, but after a while the loud swearing and insults got somewhat annoying.

There wasn't much action within the next couple of hours, and that we were thankful for. We still weren't exactly over yesterdays Tank.

Eventually we reached a quaint, pleasant looking town. We didn't see a sign anywhere, so the name of it was unknown. But from the looks of it, there didn't appear to be that many zombies.

We took down the few that were in our direct path. The road was filled with overturned cars, line with looted and dilapidated buildings. You would assume this place was abandoned for years just by the looks of it.

"Why don't we start in the grocery store, or raid some shops for weapons?" I proposed as we stood in the center of an abandoned intersection.

Rochelle eyed my blood-soaked outfit wearily. "What about new clothes?"

"Is it really that important?" I asked.

Nick chuckled. "Well, you look like hell. Who knows, maybe we'll run into some survivors and they'll mistake you for a zombie."

"Not funny, Nick." Ellis stated in a serious tone.

"Look, how about a couple a'us go look for food and a couple a'you find some new clothes. If you have any luck, I'm an extra-large." Coach winked, the burnt and raw skin on his face stretching painfully, grabbing Ellis' arm and pulling him in the direction of the nearest food store.

"Aye, Nick, why don'tchu go on with them ladies and find yourself a nice pretty dress." Ellis joked, backing away with Coach. "'N maybe some lipstick to compliment yer pretty little rings."

"I'd shut up if I were you, Ellis." Nick stated. "Or I'll beat you so bad, you'll wish your sister never gave birth to you."

Ellis responded by flipping him the bird.

"So," I began, sighing. Clothes were the least of my worries, even before the zombie apocalypse. "are there even any clothes stores out here?"

Rochelle shrugged, looking around us. "Nick, you seem pretty avid on shopping," she chuckled, eyeing his suit. "might you know where some stores are?"

"Ha, ha." He chuckled humorlessly. "You're lucky I like you, Rochelle."

"I am?"

Nick rolled his eyes.

* * *

"This has got to be the first damn town I've ever been to without a shopping mall." Rochelle complained as we wandered up and down the streets, peeping through the windows of every store we passed.

"Well, how many rural towns have you been to?" I wondered with a hint of sarcasm.

"Whatever." She replied. I smiled.

I heard gunfire in the direction Coach and Ellis headed. I made to run to them, but Nick pulled my arm back. "They can handle themselves."

"But what if-" I began to argue. Nick stopped me short.

"Trust me." I didn't. He continued, changing the subject. "These stores are shit."

My eyes drifted nervously down the road, to the direction gunfire came from. Rochelle wiped the sweat from her forehead. "There's a couple houses down that way." She said, shaking her head, beat. "Might as well see what we can find."

It looked more like a cabin fit for the woods rather than in the center of a rural town. Moss was climbing up the sides, swallowing the windows whole. The front steps were wooden, broken, and two stairs were missing, leaving large gaps between each step. The inside reeked of mothballs.

Blankets were stapled across the windows, leaving the small, one floor home cast in darkness. Nick stumbled his way across the small living room and tore them down, letting the sun in, illuminating the obscene amounts of dust floating throughout the room. He coughed, and waved his hand in front of him to clear the air.

"I'm kind of scared of what we'll find once we start looking." Rochelle mumbled, looking about the living room with doubtful eyes.

"I think that's a bedroom back there," I said, gesturing towards a closed door. "I'll go check. Would you check the kitchen and bathroom for supplies?"

Rochelle nodded and backed into the kitchen that was no wider than her stretching both her arms to her sides. Nick dropped onto the couch, a cloud of dust exploding immediately beneath him. He didn't seem to notice, and began filing through the drawers of the coffee table.

I was right: it was a bedroom. Yet it reeked of mold; as if it hadn't been lived in since before the infection even broke. The cheap metal bed frame was crooked, half of the mattress slid onto the ground. It was a small room, the dresser only a couple of feet across from the end of the bed. I pulled the drawers open, and found them all empty, the contents consisting of nothing more than bugs.

After a couple minutes of futile searching, Rochelle appeared in the doorway behind me. "Found some canned tuna and half a bottle of Aspirin." She shrugged. "More than I expected…Have you got anything?"

I shook my head. "Nah. This place looks like it's been empty for some time."

"Well, what's this room?" Rochelle asked, gesturing to a door beside the dresser I didn't even think twice about. I shrugged, and she walked towards it, her pistol clasped tightly in her hand, ready for use. She pushed open the door slowly, and I was at her heels, shifting my weight nervously.

I could feel her muscles lock in place, and I raised my pistol, anticipting an attack. Instead, I watched as Rochelle's hand released the pistol, and it landed with a _clang_.

A small sob emanated deep within her throat, only I couldn't see what she saw, as she was blocking my view. I picked her pistol from the floor, confused, but as I went to hand it to her, I saw. And the world grew still.

It was a pale pink bedroom. Decorated and fit for a young girl. The walls were bordered with bunnies, a small bed with the headboard of a castle pushed along the side. A dollhouse in the corner, the Barbie's still situated within.

On the floor was the corpse of a young woman, maggots crawling from her white mouth, feasting upon the green flesh. Her eyes white and distant. Further down and her clothes were torn, her entire torso ripped open, the entrails hanging out and staining the wooden floor around her. Her arms were outstretched, and in her left hand lay a revolver. Only then did I look closer at her pretty face, her brain matter scattered behind the crown of her skull, did I see from within her open mouth the bullet hole in the back of her throat.

In the corner rose a figure. No taller than three feet. Dressed in her Sunday's best, a pale blue flower dress, painted maroon with the womans blood. Her blonde hair pulled into pigtails, small strands astray, framing her pale, infected flesh. Her lips parted over her blood soaked teeth and a small howl erupted from within.

Nick appeared behind us. I was frozen still. I couldn't move my arms. Couldn't raise my pistol and fire a bullet into the head of this little girl. Rochelle stood beside me, her expression held nothing but dread.

She raised a her arm, aiming her pistol as steadily as she could in her shaking arm, and I commended her for her strength. Only, Nick knew her better than I. He grabbed her shoulders, twisting her into his chest, at the same time grabbing the pistol from her hand and shooting the little girl as she ran towards us. Rochelle, who covered her ears, jolted with the sound. Sobs escaped her as she caved.

I was still in the doorway. Her corpse seemed to fall in slow motion, right beside her mother.

* * *

Over an hour later we met back up with Coach and Ellis in the middle of the intersection. They were sitting in the bed of an abandoned truck passing a cereal box back and forth, reaching in and taking small handfuls.

"'Bout time!" Ellis exclaimed upon our return. "What the hell took you guys so long?" He then took in the image of Rochelle. Nick had a supportive hand on the small of her back, her shoulders hunched into herself, her eyes puffy and filled with hopelessness.

Ellis and Coach climbed from the bed of the truck. Coach walked over to Rochelle and grabbed her hand, not knowing what happened but knowing she needed to be comforted. She chuckled once, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. He gave her a comforting hug.

"What happened to her?" Ellis leaned down, whispering in my ear.

"Infected child." I said simply. I didn't know if Rochelle ever had kids, judging by her reaction. Or maybe she just couldn't bear to see the extent of the infection in the flesh: that even the sweetest, most life-loving creatures on this earth were victims, too.

"Damn," Ellis said, taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair before placing it back on. "you alright?"

"Fine." I muttered.

"So," Rochelle exhaled a shaky breath, pulling from Coach. "get anything good?"

Coach nodded, holding up a plastic grocery bag. "Canned food 'n water bottles. Took us long enough to find just that shit." He shook his head. "Any luck with ya'll?"

"Yeah," I said, and Coach turned to me. "I got some new clothes," Actually, I only found a 'new' T-shirt, which was supposed to be white, but being so dirty it was more yellow. "and we found you a T-shirt. I don't know if it will fit, though." I shrugged, handing him a large, dark purple polo not unlike the one he already had on.

"Thank you." Coach nodded to me, putting the shirt in the grocery bag, which he put in his small backpack. Rochelle handed him the Aspirin she found.

"Which way?" Nick asked, his eyes tired, lids heavy.

Coach pointed behind them. "Still got enough time in the day to keep a move on. Don't wanna burn unnecessary daylight."

I was still fighting to get the image of the girl out of my head as we left the town. Her dead mother's body on the floor, the bullet whole in the middle of her head. A mother who took her own life before she'd take her daughters, infected or not.

I bit my lip to keep from losing it, thinking of my family. Of what happened to my own mother. I wouldn't think of it, I wouldn't let myself do that. I couldn't. I couldn't think of it. Now, I couldn't stop. Now it was all I could think of. Despite how hard I tried, a small gasp escaped my lips and I chewed my lip harder. Ellis noticed my pained expression. He knew what was wrong. He took my hand in his warm one and held it tightly. We continued down the road.

* * *

The sun was slowly lowering, though it was still as hot. Tree's began surrounding the road again. But something was different. Something felt oddly familiar about these parts. The toppled over tree trunks, the smell of burnt earth, the all-too familiar stench of rotting flesh.

Now I regretted it. I knew this is where it happened. The place I've been looking for is the place I wanted to run from as soon as I reached it. I was scared, terrified, shaking of what I may find.

Further we walked, the greater my anxiety became. The darker it got, the faster I moved until I was yards ahead of the group, ignoring their angry shouts for me to get the hell back there. A familiar ring of trees. The thorn bush I collapsed into. The imminent feeling of death hanging over me, all came rushing back as the blade of a downed helicopter came into view.

Though my knees were weak, I ran.

"Zoey!" Ellis shouted angrily as I disappeared into the tree's.

"What the fuck is this bitch doing?" Nick demanded.

"Aw, what the hell, girl!" Coach yelled.

I ignored them. Everything was faint and unimportant, mere backgrounds to my objective. There was the helicopter, crashed and in pieces, scattered throughout this entire area. I stopped when I reached it, tearing my flashlight from my belt and falling to my knees, my breathing quick and ragged with the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through me.

I searched, and I dug, and I crawled. And I found nothing. I heaved chunks of metal to the side, peered through the cockpit of the helicopter itself, ignoring the feeling of hope building within me that they had to be okay if there wasn't any sign of them here. Even if I never found them, just to know they didn't die because of me would give me peace.

And then I saw it. Caught between the nose of the chopper and the damp earth was Bill's veteran beret. I collapsed, tearing it from the wedge. It was slightly charred, and stained with blood. Tears sprang in my eyes. Bill wouldn't leave this. I knew what I was going to find.

It took all of my strength to move the burnt hunk of metal. As I pushed it to the side, Ellis appeared behind me. "Zoey, what the hell are y'doin'?"

I didn't even hear him. I heard nothing, I saw nothing, I felt nothing as I looked down at what lay before me.

A virgin to infected teeth: burnt and bloody and decomposing, at my feet lay Bill's body.


	6. Chapter 6

**I like reviews.**

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* * *

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"No, Bill…" I whispered, my voice shaking.

The rest of the group followed Ellis. I was suddenly aware of them behind me.

"I…I found a body." I managed in a slightly stronger voice. The only upside, if any, was that Bill didn't succumb to the infection. He overcame it, even in death.

"Whoop-dee-freakin'-do…" Nick said in mock enthusiasm. "Now, can we get the hell out of the woods before a horde shows up and kills us all?" He said angrily, watching the darkening forest around us cautiously.

"He's right, we're sitting ducks out here." Rochelle agreed. She turned on me. "What were you thinkin' running off like that, Zoey?"

I shrugged, not planning on sharing any of this with them. I stood with my back to them still, my eyes locked on the corpse of the bravest man I've ever known laying at my feet. "I thought there could be survivors…" That wasn't a complete lie.

"Nah, this thing looks like it's been down for a while." Ellis noted, gesturing to the chopper. "Now, let's go."

They turned to leave. "It's not dark yet, and he wasn't a zombie. I'd like to bury him." My voice was void, and sounded like it came from somebody else's lips.

"God dammit, why?" Nick demanded.

I swiveled around to face him, fed up. "Because he was a person!" I shouted. My voice echoed through the trees and they fell silent, Nick giving me an aggravated look. "Go ahead," I turned my back to them again. "I'll catch up."

"Nu uh." Ellis objected. "You ain't stayin' alone. I'll help you." He addressed the others. "Ya'll go on and keep watch on the road. We'll only be a bit."

Coach huffed tiredly, shaking his head as they turned to leave. He was mumbling under his breath, and Rochelle elbowed him.

Nick groaned angrily. "Alright, you sentimental bastards. Don't take too damn long." His tone almost seemed apologetic, unless it was my imagination.

I turned from them again and stared down at Bill. I listened to their footsteps fade back onto the road before saying anything. "Will you help me move his body away from the helicopter?"

"Sure thing." Ellis said, flicking on his flashlight in the setting sun. He flashed it around, observing the sight. "Damn, this thing took a beating." He referred to the helicopter. "Feel bad for them poor folks, musta almost made it outta here, too…"

"Yeah." I agreed, kneeling besides Bill. Ellis' light flashed across his face.

"Holy shit, you sure he won't blow away in the wind if we try to move 'em?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "Nah, he's just burnt, not fully decomposed. It hasn't been that long."

"How'd you figure that?" Ellis asked.

I shrugged casually. "Just a guess."

"Alright, here we go." Ellis put his flashlight on the floor, illuminating the ground around us.

He grabbed hold of Bills ankles and I his arms. We slid him slowly and carefully from under the wreckage before laying him a distance away from the downed chopper. His torso was caved in, and the sight of it was almost too much. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my entire body shaking.

We didn't have a shovel, so I settled with dirt and leaves. I pulled his jacket from his crisped arms, ignoring the cracks and snaps it made. Ellis watched silently as I laid the jacket over his body, covering his blackened face, tears rolling down my cheeks. They flowed more steadily as I covered every inch of his body in two thick layers, wanting to be sure that nothing will disturb him. On top of the heap I placed a stick, on which I hung his veterans beret.

"Did y'know 'em?" Ellis asked, confused by my reaction to the whole thing.

I shook my head, lying. "It's just hard. This guy probably had a chance." That was an understatement. He had all the chance in the world.

Ellis laid a comforting hand on my back. "Y'did the right thing. I never woulda thought a'that."

I wasn't exactly surprised.

Before we could say anything else, the distinct howl of an approaching horde jarred us into action. "Shit!" Ellis exclaimed, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the trees, over the underbrush. It was getting darker every minute.

I pulled away from his grip to steady my sprinting.

"How the hell do they always know we're here?" He shouted beside me, referring to the horde.

"I don't fucking know!" I yelled back. "Would you like to stop and ask them?"

We broke through the last of the trees and onto the road. Nick, Coach, and Rochelle had their guns up and circulated in nervous, tight circles.

"Where they comin' from?" Coach demanded, flashing his light over the trees flanking us.

"Hell if I know!" Nick retorted. "If Mr. and Mrs. Morals over here took their heads out of their asses we wouldn't be in this mess!" I ignored him.

"Shit, here they come!" Rochelle shouted, pointing down the road at the horde that was scattered through the trees.

I had nothing but my pistols, which was the furthest thing from satisfactory. Ellis seemed to be reading my mind. He handed me his axe.

The horde came closer, bullets whizzing past my head as they took down the front line.

All of the grievance for Bill disappeared. All of the anger at myself disappeared. All of the guilt, pity, and hopelessness disappeared. Instead, it all transformed into rage.

Pure, raw rage coursed through my veins as I swung my axe mercilessly, charging head first into my enemy.

* * *

"Holy…shit…Zoey…and I thought you were a psycho before..." Nick said, hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

I was sprawled out on my back, the blood-soaked axe in my loose grip. I was covered in blood and filthy, heaving dry raspy breaths and in mourning over Bills death, but I was damned if I didn't feel good at that moment.

"Gotta hand it to ya, kid, you did good." Coach commended me, leaning back on his hands, chest heaving.

"Ya'll see the way she took on that horde? Man, I thought for sure you was a goner!" Ellis said to me. "But then I saw heads and limbs flying, blood pouring, and you standin' there lookin' like you came out of a freakin' Stephen King book!" he laughed. "What the hell got into you, girl?"

I just shrugged. What they didn't know what how much physical pain I was in. The only reason I was laying on the floor was because I didn't think I had enough strength to pick myself up.

"Whatya think, should we burn the bodies?" Rochelle wondered.

"No." Nick objected. "We're not comin' back this way again. This is some other poor fucker's problem."

"Then I reckon we getta move on." Ellis commented. Everybody else got to their feet, brushing the dirt from their asses. I was a starfish in the middle of the road.

"You gonna get up?" Rochelle asked, walking over and extending a hand. "Not surprised," she smiled when I didn't immediately move. "you took a hell of a beating in that horde. Damn good thing you're immune." She heaved me from the ground and I groaned.

"Aw, my new shirt." I complained, staring down at the blood-soaked cotton.

"That's the least of your worries." Rochelle said, chuckling. I shot her a look. That wasn't exactly her philosophy last time. "How's that belly?"

"Can't complain." I answered simply.

"Alright, well then let's go."

* * *

"This place is a piece of shit." Nick noted as we walked up to the trademark steel door. We'd been walking for over two hours down a desolate road, and now we reached swamp country. After the previous horde, the night was fairly uneventful. And for that we were relieved. I could never do that again.

"At least it's something." Rochelle looked at the bright side.

I really hoped the place had running water. It looked like a small trailer, except it was made of brick. The inside was three rooms. The main room took up almost the whole place, being a combination of the kitchen and living room. To our right was a dark bedroom, adjoining that was a shitty little bathroom. There were previously used sleeping bags on the floor, and on the shelves were spices, frying pans, and canned beans.

"Ugh, reeks in here." Nick complained after we sealed the door behind us.

"I think it smells kinda nice." Ellis shrugged.

Nick looked at him for a moment. "You're messed in the head."

"_You're_ messed in the head." Ellis reiterated childishly.

Coach went through the drawers and examined what was on the shelves. If these were earlier times, he'd be revolted by the last-resort food we were sometimes forced to eat. Now, we were hunting for it.

Rochelle was across the room at the small kitchen sink. She twisted the rusty knob hard and water came pouring out. "Yep, there's water. Kinda funny color, though…And it's cold. But still, it's water."

I'd stick with drinking our water bottles, because by the looks of this swamp infested area, drinking the water wasn't exactly the best idea.

Coach groaned after he hesitantly touched his fingers to the raw skin of his face. "This is bullshit! My face looks like hamburger."

My burst of laughter broke through the eerie silence.

It was a little over an hour later and I was still awake. Rochelle and Coach took the bedroom where there was a bed, after much insistence on my behalf that Rochelle be the one who sleeps comfortably tonight.

Ellis took one of the dirty sleeping bags on the floor, ignoring Nicks comment that he'll most likely get dysentery from it, because 'God knows how many hillbillies were fingering each other's assholes in there'. Nick used his suit as a pillow.

I was leaning up against the wall, my head lulling back. The only thing filling my nostrils was the stench of blood and guts covering my body, which in turn was keeping me from drifting off, no matter how physically exhausted I was.

I was so used to the noises in the distance that it felt off when it was silent. I wondered if that was why I was having trouble sleeping: there were no shouts, screams, or gunfire echoing across the state. It was just silence. Nothing but the crickets tuning their legs and the frogs hopping through the muddy waters. This made me believe we really were the last five people on earth. I've seen nothing that proved otherwise.

Eventually, I grew restless of being restless and peeled my sticky shirt over my head, sliding my legs out of my jeans and tossing my shoes to the side. This left me in my favorite what-used-to-be-blue bra, and a hideous pair of underwear I had snagged from a previous safe house. I carried my shirt and pants over to the sink, placing them directly under the faucet and letting the cold water run over them until the sink was filled with cold, red-tainted water. I used my fists to scrub my shirt as best as I could, and retired back to my position against the wall to let them soak.

The breeze that blew through the bars in the door chilled my arms, relaxing me, though it carried the stench of swamp. It was ignorable, though. I've smelled worse.

My head fell onto my shoulder, my eyes growing heavy. The last image in my head before I fell asleep was Bill's charred face, staring up at me.

_My round went wild. It bounced through the helicopter, the control panel exploded, and all the lights and buttons faded. "God dammit!" Bill shouted nervously, pulling back the steering stick in a futile attempt to crash land._

_Francis and Louis had to duck to dodge my sad attempt at a shot, accidentally causing the zombie-pilot to tumble over onto Bill. I used his temporary stillness to attempt another shot, and this time it hit him._

_Blood splattered through the pilot seat, showering Bill. The zombies heavy corpse pushed him to the edge of the helicopter, and then he slipped._

_The zombies corpse fell and disappeared into the forest below us. Bill was hanging on for dear life onto one of the landing rods, flailing around as I was._

_"Hold on, old man!" Francis shouted, lunging forward and reaching for Bills hand. It wasn't soon enough, though, because as he was pulling Bill into the helicopter, we were swallowed by the trees. And all I saw was black._

I woke once in the night when it was still dark out, light snoring sounding around me. I wasn't as cold as I was when I fell asleep, which momentarily confused me in my groggy state considering I fell asleep in my underwear. I looked down at myself and found I was wrapped in a sleeping bag.

A couple of feet away from me was Ellis, sprawled out on the floor, his head on his arms, no longer situated in the sleeping bag I was now using. I felt a rush of gratitude, which only became stronger when I looked over at the sink to see my clothes hanging over the sides, wringed of water and drying in the breeze.

* * *

I woke again when the sun was barely in the sky, the safe room cast in an orange glow. I figured I might as well get dressed now, and save myself the embarrassment of being in my underwear in front of the others later.

But as I lifted my head off of the floor, I saw Nick leaning up against the wall opposite me, awake. My eyes went to my clothes, then back to him.

He knew what I was thinking. He scoffed, and got to his feet. My slightly damp clothes still stunk slightly when they landed on my face, Nick having tossed them at me. It was hard to stay vertical within the sleeping bag as I got dressed. I felt rather prudent, like a little girl, still feeling modest even though that was the last thing on most peoples minds.

Nick was staring at me when I climbed from the sleeping bag, a smirk playing on the edge of his lips. I walked over and sat on the floor beside him, leaning my head back.

"I could really use a smoke right now." Nick stated.

"I could really use a shower."

"Yeah," Nick said, sniffing. "you could."

"You don't exactly smell like a bouquet of roses."

Nick just shook his head, smiling.

"So…" I attempted conversation. "Florida, huh? What are the chances of it being legitimate?"

"Slim. Probably nothing there. Probably burnt down and overrun. But there's nowhere else."

"Where did you hear about it anyways?" I asked. "Was it written on a safe room wall?"

"Actually, yes." Nick yawned. "Warned them not to trust it. After all, it was writing on a wall that told us to go to New Orleans, and look where that got us." He shook his head. "Won't listen to me for shit."

"Well, like you said about Ellis, they don't want go give up." I shrugged.

Nicks eyes fell on Ellis' sleeping form.

"The kid likes you, you know." He suddenly said, sounding factual.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Ellis."

"What about him?"

"He likes you." Nick reiterated.

My eyes fell on Ellis, who was snoring lightly on the floor. "Oh." Was all I said in response. I didn't know what I should have said. To be honest, those kind of thoughts haven't even passed through my mind.

"You should hear some of the stuff he says." Nick said, shaking his head.

"I'd rather not…" I objected weakly, but Nick continued.

"…how attractive you look with a gun, how you can be compared to an angel…"

My face began to burn. "Why are you telling me this?" I demanded.

"I'd do anything to embarrass the kid. Besides, I felt kinda sorry for him, actin' all lovey dovey…pathetic."

"He does not love me."

"Did I say that?" Nick asked rhetorically. "He's just enamored with you, is all. Though…" Nick eyed me up and down. "I don't see why."

Despite myself I smiled. My lids were growing heavy, closing over my eyes despite my attempts to stay awake. I slumped lower against the wall, my head lulling onto Nick's shoulder. I half-expected him to push me off, so needless to say, I was surprised when he rested his cheek on the top of my head.

"This sucks." I said, stifling a yawn.

"What does?"

"Everything."

Nick chuckled into my hair. "Ain't that the truth."

* * *

Swamp country was hell. Not only was it disgusting and smelly, but the muddy terrain made it quite difficult to maneuver, a huge inconvenience if a horde were to show up.

There came a point when we needed to cross a murky lake in order to get out of the swampy forest and back on the road. On the dock was a ferry, which, due to our incredibly bad luck, didn't work. It clicked and trembled a few times, before sputtering to a halt and sinking lower into the lake.

"Dammit." Coach mumbled, disheartened. He eyed the muddy waters before us doubtfully.

"You do what you gotta do." I shrugged optimistically.

Ellis seemed unbothered by it. "I love swimming, man." He smiled, shaking his head. "Did I ever tell you 'bout this one time me and my buddy Keith went swimming with the gators? 'Course they was trained 'n all but that didn't stop 'em from takin' a big ol' chunk outta…"

Nick responded by pushing him into the water. Rochelle keeled over laughing.

* * *

It was a struggle to swim with our arms over our heads to keep the weapons dry, especially when the water grew deeper. The small lake wasn't very wide, thankfully. Lord only knows what kind of shit was floating around I there. I swore I felt a hand brush against my leg as we crossed, though. Nick agreed, but we ignored it and got the hell out of there.

I was the last one out of the water, offering to keep up the back in case any zombies followed us. When I reached the dock, Coach bent over and heaved me up with ease using one arm. It felt as though I weighed twenty extra pounds, my clothes were soaked with thick, muddy water.

"Man, I hope to God I don't look as bad as I smell." Ellis complained, wrinkling his nose.

"You look like you were walking through a swamp." Nick said sarcastically.

"Well, you got a turd on your shoulder."

"I'm not even gonna look."

"Hold on." Rochelle stopped us as we made down the dock. She pulled the laminated map from her back pocket, laying it out before her. Coach looked over her shoulder. "Alright." She said after a few moments observing it, and tucked it back into her soaked jeans. "We just keep heading north until we reach the highway, and that should take us into southern Georgia…but who knows what kind of shitstorm is waitin' for us…" Rochelle stood and attempted to wring out her clothes. "Nick…is...is that a turd on your shoulder?"

"Yeah. Uh…I put it there."

"Sound's good enough to me." Coach shrugged, referring to the map.

"That works out perfect 'cause I know Georgia like the back'a my hand!" Ellis exclaimed.

An odd noise caught my attention. The first thing that popped into my head was a hyena, but they don't live in these parts, at least I didn't think so…

"…find me a good 'ol candy shop…" Coach rambled to himself.

The maniacal laughter sounded again, and I was stumped, listening intently.

"…reminds me a'this time my buddy Dave's car dropped in a lake just like this one…"

"…god damn swamp water out of my hair…"

"…usually owls don't attack people, but Dave was fightin' this one for 20 minutes treadin' water…"

"SHUT UP!" Both Nick and I shouted at the same time. Him out of sheer annoyance, I was listening for that noise again. They all stared at us, taken aback.

"Did you guys hear that?" I asked, ears perked.

"Hear-?" Rochelle began to ask me.

But just then something suddenly latched onto the back of my head, resulting in a sickening crack from my neck. A deafening, hyena-like laugh erupted right in my ear. Slimy, cold claws were gripping my face, squeezing my mouth shut as it steered me toward the water. I couldn't part my lips to shout, I just groaned helplessly through my teeth.

They were too afraid to shoot it, for fear they might accidentally blow my head off, and I wasn't standing still enough for them to aim. Nick ran towards me with a machete, but just before he sliced this thing off of my head, a Charger collided with him, sending them both off of the dock and into the water.

"Nick!" Ellis shouted, jumping in the water after him.

Right then, my foot slipped from the dock, this maniacal laughter filling my ears, and before I went under I saw Coach and Rochelle fending off a small horde provoked by our shouts.

I opened my eyes under water, thankful my guns were up on the dock, and saw nothing but thick green. The filthy water stung my eyes. This thing was still latched on my head, and I kicked my legs wildly to stay afloat, but it's grip loosened enough for me to grab my knife from my belt and plunge it as hard as the water would allow into his side, repeatedly. As I was doing this, it was still attempting to drag me towards the bottom, and one look below me confirmed the worst: at the floor of the lake was hundreds of zombies, walking around slowly and aimlessly.

I was desperate to get out of there before the zombies below took notice to me, which I was surprised they hadn't already. I wasn't sure what senses zombies used, if any, but I was hoping that the water impaired them enough to buy me time.

One last time I plunged my knife into the thing latched onto me, blood turning the green around me into an ugly maroon. It's slimy hands released my face and I kicked my feet, getting as far away from it as possible. I struggled for air, and before I broke the surface I looked down at what attacked me. Something I haven't seen before, something that looked like a hair-less monkey.

I gasped wildly when my head reached air, every breath burning my throat, my eyes stinging. Ellis was just dragging Nick back onto the dock, Rochelle taking down the last zombie before Coach leaned over and pulled me from the waters once again.

I collapsed on all fours, my breathing ragged and my body shaking violently. I was scared to the core. Coach kneeled beside me and placed a comforting hand on my vibrating shoulders. "You alright?"

I nodded weakly. "What – the hell – was that thing?" I said between gasps.

"A Jockey." Coach said. "You ain't never seen one before?"

I shook my head.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get to yah right away. Just as you 'n Nick were carried off a horde chose that time to show up."

I waved a hand dismissively. "I'm fine, doesn't matter. Nick – how is he?" I looked over and saw Nick sprawled on his back, a vicious bruise beginning to form on his face, his left arm contorted in a nasty way, Rochelle and Ellis bent over him.

"It ain't right for someone to be ridden like that." Coach chuckled, helping me to my feet. My neck and shoulders hurt something fierce, I couldn't move them without flinching.

"Coach," Rochelle said, beckoning him over. "Nick's arm was disjointed, we need you to pop it back in."

I took it that Coach did this many times before, because he cracked his knuckles as he walked over. Ellis retreated towards me. "Sorry 'bout that, I didn't see you get pulled under…" He apologized, looking down.

"It's fine. I can help myself."

He shrugged. "I just don't want you to think I didn't care enough t'help you…"

"Ellis, I'm not asking you to care." I stated, wondering if he thought I was emotionally expectant of him, or that what he did or didn't do mattered, which couldn't be more wrong. The last thing I needed was to get attached: it got me nowhere last time I allowed that to happen.

He looked down at me and I saw his lower lip tremble slightly. I knew I hurt his feelings, but right now those were the least of my worries.

"Sorry, Nick, but this is gon' hurt like a bitch." Coach assured Nick, who had Rochelle's belt between his teeth to muffle his unavoidable screams.

Coach pushed. There was a sickening snap. Nick's howl of pain filled the sticky night air.

The distant weeping of a witch mirrored all of us.


	7. Chapter 7

"In the beginning was the Word, and the word was with God…" Ellis recited nervously to himself, hoping that if we couldn't help him, God would. He was shaking as he tried to inch his way past the witch. She wandered over after the rest of us passed, catching Ellis as he bent to tie his shoe.

If Ellis was going to die, he was going to die in God's name, he decided right then.

"…and the word was God. Through him all things were made. Without him nothing was made…" Ellis took another step, twigs cracking beneath his feet. He shut his eyes tight, freezing still, hoping he hadn't disturbed her. She continued weeping only feet from him. Ellis couldn't run, his back was up against the wall, literally: we were passing through an alley.

"In him was life…And that life was the light of men…" He slid further down the wall, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, his lips quivering. And there was nothing the rest of us could do to help him except wait, our weapons raised, to take her down at the right time.

His voice was trembling. "The light shines in the darkness…" He took a deep breath, sliding one leg over the other. The heel of his boot caught onto the bottom of his jeans. He stumbled, dropping pills from his belt. They almost seemed to fall in slow motion as they landed at his feet, the contents making a rather loud noise compared to the silence we were struggling to maintain.

The witch's head swiveled towards Ellis and she lunged to her feet, bloody claws raised. Ellis fell to the floor, arms shielding his face, crying out as the witch took her claws to his flesh. We opened fire, except it was Nick who grabbed the axe from the floor with his good arm, ran forth and swung without a moments hesitation. The witch's head fell to the pavement and rolled, it's mouth still parted in a grimace, the eyes red and distant.

Ellis lurched forward and puked. Nick bent over to help him up.

"…but the darkness has not overcome it."

* * *

"Are you alright?" I asked Ellis anxiously a while later as we moved through side streets of a small neighborhood. His face was losing it's color, and he was absent of the warmth that usually emanated from him. He was gripping his left bicep, which was bleeding profusely despite our best attempts to stem it. The entire left half of his shirt was torn and bloody, even though the witch had hold of him for only a couple seconds.

"'M fine…" He mumbled, almost unintelligibly. I pulled his hand, now stained with his blood, from his arm to examine the wound.

"Rochelle, can I see your belt?" I asked her. She nodded, pulling it from around her waist and passing it to me. I wrapped it around Ellis' upper bicep, ignoring his jerks of pain, and tightened it. "That should slow blood flow to the cuts, though I'm not a doctor…"

"Sounds about right to me." Coach nodded. "Now, we need t'find somewhere to sleep, I'm tired as all hell."

Nick was practically asleep on his feet, though the occasional wince would flash across his face whenever he habitually moved his left arm. It was extremely sore after Coach popped it back in, along with the forming bruise that was trailing up the side of his face, and being rather doped up on painkillers didn't help.

"You're right." Rochelle agreed, taking Ellis' right arm and wrapping it around her shoulders to steady him. I was keeping an eye on Nick so he wouldn't collapse in a ditch or fall behind. "Nick and Ellis look like they could go down any second. And this neighborhoods making me nervous. It's too quiet."

I laughed, and they gave me weird looks. I couldn't help but wonder: have we become so jacked up on survivors adrenaline that not having something to shoot made us uneasy?

"Oh, my gosh…" Rochelle whistled as we stood in front of the safe house. It was huge, like a contemporary, decked out farm house. There was a thick glass roof and stainless steel walls, a tall, black metal fence wrapped around the front yard.

"Why the hell would anybody leave this place? It seems like they had 'zombie apocalypse' on their itinerary when they built it…" I noticed. Coach chuckled.

"Who gives a shit why they left, it's ours for tonight." He said.

Ellis was mumbling mindlessly to himself, a tad delusional after minor blood loss and fatigue.

"We need'a get him in, he's dead on his feet." Rochelle said. Ellis was leaning completely on her, and her knees began to shake under his weight.

Nick was leaning against the front steps, his head lulling back. I grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the familiar red steel door, following Coach inside the large, dark entryway. Nick's eyes fell on the couch and his body soon followed. Ellis collapsed on the floor after Rochelle dropped him in search of a bathroom, and Coach went hunting in the kitchen.

"It's all clear up here!" Rochelle yelled from upstairs. I saw her standing at the top, flipping a light switch on and off, to no avail. "Damn." She muttered.

"Nothin' over here, neither!" Coach agreed from the kitchen.

After I scoured the first floor living room and downstairs bedroom, I sealed the door behind us. The stiffness and pain in my neck and shoulders were becoming unbearable. Every slight turn of my head or movement in my shoulders sent pain down my spine. Like after sleeping in the same weird position all night and waking up stiff, except this wouldn't go away.

I bent over and helped Ellis into a chair across from the couch Nick fell onto, untying the belt from his arm so circulation wasn't completely cut off. It wasn't bleeding so much anymore. I took gauze from Coach's backpack, wrapping it securely around his bicep and forcing a couple Aspirin down his throat.

As I was about to move away, Ellis' head snapped up from his shoulder and he grabbed my hand, pulling me back into a sitting position besides the armchair.

His eyes were closed, his body limp. I sat there looking at him while I watched what he wanted to say being formed on his lips. They opened and closed a couple times, as if he was unsure how to phrase what he was feeling.

"I'm scared." He finally whimpered in an extremely low, raspy voice, tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

"Me too, Ellis." I softly kissed his hand. "We all are." I said, stifling a yawn.

I lay my head on our clasped hands and fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up when it was still dark out. Falling asleep with my neck bent on the armchair didn't help my already sore neck and shoulders, it seemed even worse now. I lifted my head slowly and even that hurt. I pursed my lips in an attempt to keep from shouting.

After carefully extracting my hand from Ellis' grip so I wouldn't wake him, I felt my way through the darkness into the bathroom. Doubting the electricity suddenly decided to work, I placed my flashlight on the sink standing upright so the bathroom was lightly illuminated.

I skipped the faucet and went straight to the grandeur shower, not letting my hopes get too high. I closed my eyes as I turned the handle all the way to hot.

Water came pouring out of the showerhead. My mouth dropped open. It was a shower. A real shower.

I didn't feel the water for warmth, didn't test it before I got in, I just stripped off my clothes and climbed in. Of course, the water was damn near freezing, but it felt so good on my sore muscles that I hardly noticed the goose bumps.

Hanging off the side of the tub was a rag. I rubbed my face, the towel darkened at least five shades when I pulled away. I chuckled, and imagined how filthy the rest of my body must be.

I scrubbed every inch of my skin until I was pink and raw. I dug my nails into my scalp, scrubbing mercilessly, washing out all of the sweat, swamp, mud, blood, and guts. The water was only lukewarm by the time I finished, which was an hour later at the least.

I wrapped myself in a thin towel that was bunched up in the corner, not wanting to defeat the whole purpose of a shower by getting into my filthy, smelly clothes. I wanted the clean feeling to last as long as possible.

Nick was sprawled out on the couch, his shoes kicked off, suit jacket on the floor. His face was a nasty mix of purple and blue, my own face ached just looking at it.

Ellis turned to look at me when I sat down next to his chair.

"Oh, you're awake?" I said, slightly embarrassed.

"Couldn't sleep much." He admitted, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, you should try. You need it after today."

"It ain't gonna happen, sugar. Too much on my mind. A'been sittin' here for a hour tryin' to fall asleep." He sat up, straightening himself out in the armchair. "Where y'been? Got kinda nervous when I woke up 'n you weren't there."

He looked down at me, clad only in a towel, and his eyebrows raised. "I took a shower."

"Hell, their shower works?" He asked, incredulous. "Damn, this place is awesome."

I nodded, and then winced with the pain.

Ellis noticed my pained expression. "Hey, you awright?"

"I've been real sore ever since that Jockey thing. I think I pulled a couple muscles or something…" I said.

Ellis stared at me for a moment, biting his lip. I felt incredibly naked. "Do - do you want me to rub it for you or somethin'?"

I was slightly taken aback, but it was an offer I couldn't refuse. "Uh…yeah, sure."

"Awright, then." Ellis smiled brightly. "Come on over here…" He said, gesturing to the floor in front of him. I sat cross legged, keeping the towel tight around me. Ellis sat at the edge of the chair.

He almost seemed hesitant as his fingers hovered above my flesh. And when his hands landed on my shoulders, the contrast between his warmth and my goose bumps made me gasp in surprise.

"Oh, shit, did I hurt you?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"Lemme know if I do."

I nodded tiredly.

All that was running through my mind was how good it felt, despite Ellis' dirty, callused hands. My head drooped forward, my eyes growing heavy.

Ellis brushed my wet hair off of my back, hanging it over my shoulder as his hands continued to work miracles on my pained muscles. I couldn't help myself, and moaned softly. Ellis took this as a more than suggestive response. He moved from the chair and sat behind me, pulling me between his legs. His hands moved up my waist, his fingers working in an eye-rolling rotation on the knots in my back. I could feel his nose at my neck, inhaling my scent, his arms sliding around my stomach and pressing me against him. I was so tired, so incredibly tired. I did nothing, I just let him work me like a doll.

Ellis took my lack of rejection as a green light, replacing his hands with his lips, kissing my shoulder blades gently, trailing up my neck and across my shoulders. I didn't make any move to stop him though, I was being awfully selfish, basking in the pleasure and relaxation he was giving me.

Every second I fell deeper into the purgatory between dreams and reality.

"Zoey." He whispered, kissing the sensitive flesh behind my ear. I shivered, and leaned back into his warm chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his leather vest. His strong, tattooed arms encircled me, his breath on my neck, the beating of his heart in my ear.

There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do. I wanted to tell him that I've missed him so much it hurt, how I've almost given up, contemplated ending all of this because I didn't have him. But instead something much smaller escaped my lips. "Francis…" I whispered back, sighing into his touch.

There was silence behind me.

"Who the hell is Francis?" Ellis asked.

Suddenly, I spiraled back down into reality with a jolt. I wasn't with Francis. He wasn't cradling me. He wasn't there. He wasn't alive.

I felt my face burning, my heart picking up in speed while shock and embarrassment coursed through me. I lunged from Ellis' arms and stood before him. He looked up at me with a confused and jealous expression on his face.

"I…I…I'm so sorry…" Was all I spat out, before darting back into the bathroom, closing the door tightly behind me. I must have drifted off, fell asleep and imagined it was Francis there with me…

I pulled my clothes on robotically.

Now all that was pounding through my brain was Francis. Francis' face, Francis' smell, the feeling of him beside me…everything I've fought to keep hidden, to keep from feeling, was threatening to implode.

I attempted to get on my shoes. I wanted to run. Run from Ellis, run from this house, my shame, my embarrassment, run from myself.

I lost him. He's gone. He's never coming back. I'll never hear his voice again. I was truly going insane, imagining it was him there with me rather than Ellis…How bad I've probably hurt Ellis now, how embarrassed I made us both feel, how I'm being ruled by my petty emotions even though it's a constant battle between life and death outside of this house…

I gave up on trying to tie my shoes. In a sudden bolt of rage I threw it across the room. It collided with the mirror in an explosion of glass.

I curled into a ball on the filthy linoleum, ignoring the throbbing in my gut, the aching in my back. Then a sob escaped my throat, and they didn't stop until the sun rose.

* * *

Rochelle burst into the bathroom early in the morning, a worried expression on her face, a pistol in her right hand.

"Oh my God, Zoey, you had us worried half to death, we didn't know where you were!" Rochelle said, hand on her chest.

I didn't respond, I was still curled in a miserable ball. Now that the feelings were out, they weren't going to go away. Rochelle took in the sight of me and knelt beside me, a hand on my back. "Zoey, hon, what's the matter? What's wrong?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

An overwhelming need for comfort washed over me and I draped myself over her. She seemed slightly taken aback at first, used to my emotional indifference, but she wrapped her arms around me nonetheless, rocking me back and forth on the bathroom floor, hushing me and rubbing my back as I sobbed into her neck.

"It's going to be okay." She reassured me, her voice beginning to tremble herself. She didn't know what was wrong, and she didn't have to: but I hoped to dear God she was right.

* * *

Ellis didn't mention last night. I had a hard time looking at him, feeling the blood rush into my face whenever I went over what happened.

Now that the sun was up, it presented us with the opportunity to actually inspect the safe house. Nick was up and running, having gotten hours more of sleep than he was used to, chuckling and dropping sarcastic comments despite the painful bruise on his face.

Rochelle continued to shoot me nervous side glances for a while, nervous I might break down again. I somewhat regretted allowing myself to look so weak in front of her. But I repeatedly told myself my emotions are not my weakness, though I believed it so. I noticed her whispering to Coach as they cleared out the kitchen, searching for any valuable supplies. I hoped to God that she didn't let him in on my meltdown; it was somewhat reassuring that I didn't tell her exactly what happened. I couldn't salvage enough courage to relive the embarrassment.

I walked into the large living room where Ellis was lounging on the couch, wiping down his shotgun. He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. I hesitatingly sat next to him.

"Mornin'." He smiled crookedly again. "How ya' feelin'? Oh, I wiped down yourr pistols, they were all covered in blood 'n water…"

A wave of gratitude washed through me. I leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Ellis, I'm so sorry. Please for-"

He shook his head fervently. "Don't worry about it." He said seriously, in a tone I've never heard before, void of laughter and humor.

I nodded, my eyes locked on his face. He continued cleaning his shotgun, when something in the corner of the room caught his attention. "Aye, what are those?"

* * *

"Looks like they use solar-powered generators," I noted, kneeling before the two large machines in the corner of the room, how we didn't notice them earlier was a mystery. I looked through the window and noticed the fiery sun. "If they are, then electricity should be working fine, that would explain no electricity last night…"

I walked over to the light switch on the wall and flipped them on. Immediately the room was lit from corner to corner. There was a floor lamp next to a large TV, three decorative wall lamps illuminating to our right, and a ceiling lamp hanging in the center.

Ellis whistled, clearly taken aback. I couldn't deny being shocked myself. It was obvious that whoever occupied this place last obviously planned on returning, we just didn't know when, or if, they were.

But for now, we were just going to enjoy the rarity.

"D'you think the TV works?" Ellis asked, walking towards it.

"It should," I shrugged. "but I doubt there's any working channels. I don't think anybody is really broadcasting anymore…" I assumed.

Ellis pushed the ON button and we were greeted with the grainy, black and white screen. He pushed the channel up button over and over again, but every channel gave the same response. "Shoot." He mumbled, disappointed.

Just before he switched the TV off, a lopsided, grainy image popped onto the screen. It showed a group of soldiers standing before a large steel gate, three large dogs in cages next to them, and a voice was talking, though I couldn't exactly make out the words.

I knelt on the floor besides Ellis, and turned up the volume. There was a lot of static, but for the most part intelligible. "There you have it," A man's voice began to conclude an earlier statement, before being interrupted by a group of six people approaching the soldiers at the gate. The camera quickly panned from the news reporter and zoomed in on the scene. From what I saw, the refugees were told to form a straight line sternly by one of the soldiers. They all had to walk past the dogs, who stayed silent, until an older fellow walked past them. They jumped at the metal of their cages, snarling and bearing their teeth ferociously, running around in circles and biting at the steel. Immediately, the man was seized by two large soldiers and carried off, the others ushered through the gates before they had the chance to see what had happened.

The camera was hastily turned from the scene and to the reporter. He continued his earlier statement. "There you have it." He said, somewhat solemn. "If any of you somehow see this report," His voice wasn't formal like most reporters, just desperate. "We urge you to travel to South Carolina, a 67% reclaimed state, to the county of Charleston, where this heavily guarded refugee camp is located. Please, we -" The rest was interrupted by static and from then on un-viewable.

Ellis turned off the TV. We were both still entranced by what we saw. We sat there for many minutes, staring at the black screen, somehow unable to digest the information we just received.

There was still some sort of society, was all I could think of. Still some control over the situation, and if they could reclaim South Carolina, surely they could reclaim other state. It would take time, but they proved it is possible. Though the threat of outbreaks hung over everybody's head like a guillotine, it was still something to fight for.

"Holy shit," Ellis breathed. I turned to say something to him, but Nick suddenly appeared behind us. His eyes took in our anxious positions in front of the TV, and his brow furrowed quizzically. "What're you guys up to?"

"Shit, Nick!" Ellis exclaimed, jumping to his feet and gripping Nick's arms tightly. Nick cussed and pulled his bad arm away. Ellis hardly noticed. "You ain't gonna believe this!"

"I'm not in the mood to listen to one of your hillbilly stories, Ellis…" Nick dismissed, stepping away from the enthusiastic Ellis, who looked like he was about to bounce off the walls.

"No, seriously," I agreed, getting to my feet and turning towards them. "we just saw a report on the TV…"

"TV?" Nick interrupted, intrigued.

"Yeah, solar powered generators…" I answered impatiently.

"They're still making reports?" He inquired again.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, itching to share what we just heard. "Anyways, they just said that South Carolina is, like, 70% reclaimed or something-"

"67%." Ellis piped in, walking in circles anxiously.

"67% reclaimed." I corrected myself. "Also to head to Charleston county, where there's this huge, heavily guarded refugee place, with giant steel doors and soldiers parading around…" I said, getting rather excited. "We can go there! We can-"

"Now, now," Nick raised up his hands. "I wouldn't get my hopes up. I mean, how many 'refugee camps' have we passed? And how many were still operating?"

"Nick, you just love to spoil everything, don't you?" Ellis stated angrily.

"This is different," I said hopefully.

"How?" Nick prodded.

"The state is almost completely reclaimed, and the army is there-"

"How do they know if they're not letting in any infected? What if they're stormed and everybody forces their way in, infected, carriers?" Nick argued.

I huffed angrily. Before I could go on, Nick continued. "I'm not trying to purposely crush your hopes,"

"Well, you did an awful good job." Ellis stated, sliding onto the couch.

Nick ignored him. "but, seriously, come on. How do we know it won't turn out like every other outpost?"

"You can't get through the steel doors." I said indignantly. "And they use dogs to figure out whose infected…"

"Is that what that was?" Ellis piped in again. I nodded at him and continued.

"I guess dogs can sniff out whose been bitten, or they can smell the infection, I don't know…All I know is that they don't bark at healthy or immune people, but they went berserk at this one guy, who was all sick looking…And they carried him off." That was just a theory, but it seemed right. What else would they use dogs for? Besides, if it convinced Nick, it couldn't hurt to tell a little lie. "I mean, it looks like the real deal, Nick."

Nick didn't say anything.

"You can't keep debunking every shred of hope we have." I stated desperately. "Besides, where else would we go? We all know Florida was a bust, we just needed something to look forward to."

Nick was silent for many moments, mulling this over. "I guess you're right." He said finally. "Where else would we go, indeed..." He mumbled, seemingly to himself. I was thoroughly shocked that he agreed with the idea without complaining or dropping pessimistic comments about how we're all going to die or something.

Ellis whooped and called Coach and Rochelle into the room from the kitchen, who were more than thrilled to hear that we wouldn't just be wandering around hopelessly anymore. We agreed to head out first thing in the morning, and laid out our path on the map. Though it was a much longer trip than Florida, it was a legitimate destination. And that was all we needed to keep going.

* * *

That night, sleep was not going to happen. Usually I was exhausted physically and emotionally, but I was so wound up and anxious I couldn't close my eyes for an extended period of time.

Ellis and I slept on the floor in the living room, letting the others occupy to the bedrooms upstairs. I was on my stomach, my fingers drumming habitually on the wood floor. Ellis lay a few feet away, also on his stomach, so he wouldn't disturb his healing arm, but his head turned in the other direction.

Another fifteen minutes passed. Still no chance of falling asleep. "Ellis?" I whispered softly. I didn't really want to wake him, but part of me hoped he would. He had the uncanny ability of making me feel better. When he didn't stir, I figured he was asleep. I reached out caressed his outstretched arm. Ellis' head turned towards me and he smiled, his eyes still closed.

"Hey, Zo." He mumbled groggily. He grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

I fell asleep five minutes later.

* * *

I was awakened the next morning by the reverberation of boots on the wooden floor. I cringed, lifting my head from the ground. Through my blurry vision I saw Ellis' boots moving back and forth across the room.

"What are you doing?" I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "What time is it?"

Ellis bundled up the last of his blankets and tossed them in the corner. "Sun just came up. You're the last one awake, darlin'! E'rybody else is waitin' in the kitchen, gotta get a move on…"

I jumped to my feet, bringing the blankets I was wrapped in with me. "Why didn't you guys wake me up?" I asked. "I need to…to check our weapons and the food and stuff-" I listed anxiously, moving towards the door. The blanket twisted around my ankle, bringing me to the floor.

Ellis couldn't stop himself from laughing as he helped me to my feet, holding my shoulders to keep me in place. "Relax, Zo. Already done. Rochelle took care o'all that. 'Sides, I heard you fidgetin' last night, figured y'needed the sleep."

"Oh, well…" I composed myself, standing straight and brushed my hair from my face. "Thanks, Ellis. That was thoughtful." I said, slightly embarrassed by my small panic attack. "I suppose I'll go use the bathroom." As I trudged off, I heard Ellis chuckling behind me.

* * *

We were in a slightly deserted town, the type that look like they came from an old western movie. Minus all of the sand and tumbleweeds.

"Which way we goin' again?" Ellis wondered, looking around at the terrain.

"East," Coach began. "a little ways over is a dock, we gotta cross a small river. That should bring us to dry land, from there we get on the expressway 'n follow that up through Georgia 'til we break off at another one which should take us to South Carolina."

Ellis nodded.

"Er," I piped up. "is going up on the expressway the best idea?"

"Don't see why not." Coach looked down at me.

"Yeah," Ellis interrupted. "I mean, expressways are elevated, right? Pretty much sitting ducks on there, we can be seen for miles." He looked at all of us nervously.

"You got a better idea?" Coach asked.

"I think they've got a point," Rochelle stated, her eyes still scanning everywhere around us. Coach huffed, shaking his head.

"What else could we do, though?" Ellis asked, carrying his combat shotgun over his shoulder.

"There are a lot of alternative routes if we looked over the map." I began, thinking it over. "On the down side, they would take longer and who knows what condition the neighborhoods and towns are in…On the plus side, it gives us higher chances of finding supplies and weapons, also cover so we're not swarmed."

"So, either way we're screwed." Nick said casually. I wasn't going to pretend I wasn't expecting a pessimistic comment from him.

Everybody was silent for a few minutes as they thought it over.

"It may take longer, but hell, you two are right." Coach finally said.

"Yeah." Rochelle agreed. Ellis smiled smugly.

"What exactly are these 'alternate routes'?" Nick asked.

"Do you think I have the entire US map memorized?" I snapped. "We'll have to look it over next time we reach a safe house, that's all."

Nick just shook his head, exasperated.

Suddenly, the door of a small store a little ahead of us burst open and a small group of infected poured out. They were howling and gargling, a hideous sight in the sun. They caught sight of us and took flight.

"Alright," Nick shouted, cocking his shotgun. "let's do this!"


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was bearing down on us without mercy. Ellis was rid of his shirt, which was torn anyways, and had it hanging from his belt. Rochelle's dark skin was glistening, her shirt damp with her sweat. Eventually she rolled the hem up to her chest. Coach had armpit stains stretching down to his belt, and Nick shed his suit jacket, holding it over his shoulder with one hand and a magnum in the other, the first few buttons of his blood-stained polo open. Being sweaty, bruised, and bloody, Nick still managed to look suave.

After a while, the buildings grew fewer and farther apart. The past couple hours were spent clearing out store after store, for no reason: it was all ransacked long before. Our only loot was a home-made pipe bomb and a steel baseball bat, which Ellis claimed without a moment's hesitation.

We reached the edge of the town, the name we learned being Waynesboro.

"Hold up, ya'll." Coach said from behind us. We all turned to see him leaning heavily on his axe, his face contorted in pain. "I ain't so young anymore, a'can't keep goin' for miles in the heat like this, hate to admit."

"Come on, Coach, muscle memory! Remember?" Nick exclaimed, arms raised. He hated taking breaks or slowing up the pace, it was practically asking for a horde, in his opinion.

I knew it bothered Coach to admit any weakness, considering he was the unspoken leader of the group. I assumed it was age or physical durability, but everyone always turned to him during hard times. So, I figured he must not be feeling too well if it was bad enough to slow him down.

Coach shook his head at Nick. "Boy, you don't know nothin'." Nick scoffed in disagreement.

"No, it's alright." Rochelle said, dropping her gun to the floor. "We're not on any main roads or nothin', if anything's around here it woulda showed itself already. Might as well take a small breather 'n check the map."

"Fuck!" Nick shouted, kicking a rock and sending it across the street in his bout of anger. "Who knows what the hell will be waitin' for us at that refugee place if we keep takin' so god damn long pissin' around!"

We all ignored him.

Ellis and I dropped to the floor simultaneously. I leaned back on my hands, my body drenched and my head beginning to pound. Beside me, Ellis was sprawled on his back. I swore I almost heard his bare chest sizzling under the sun, though his face held a content smile.

Nick was leaning up against a stop sign, an impatient look on his face, his eyes constantly shifting left and right while Rochelle and Coach went over the map.

"So, where are we?" I asked after a few moments of contemplative silence.

Coach wiped his forehead with his upper sleeve. "Southeast Mississippi. Couple more miles down this road 'n we'll be in Alabama."

Nick snorted. "Alabama? Are you kidding me? We're never gonna make it to South Carolina." He said angrily.

"Well, with that kinda attitude we won't make it no where." Ellis said from beside me.

"Piss off, hick."

Ellis just chuckled beside me.

"Shut up, both of you." Rochelle demanded, getting to her feet. "Here's the plan: there's a couple rivers we could follow right through south eastern Alabama and into Georgia. With Coach and Ellis being from Georgia and the map, we could easily make it to South Carolina in no time as long as we know where we're going."

"We can't use the rivers, though, right?" I wondered.

Rochelle rolled her eyes. "No shit we can't actually ride the rivers. As long as we follow them. They will take us through a few towns and cities, though. I don't know whether that's good or bad…"

"Well, I guess we'll find out." Ellis said, sitting up, his face red. "Can't get much worse than some a'the shit we been through, right?"

"No, it definitely could, considering we're still alive." Nick said.

Ellis shook his head. "C'mon Nick, cut that shit out."

Nick pushed himself from the stop sign, standing straight. "What shit?"

"The 'we're all gonna die slow and painful deaths' shit. That's the last goddamn thing we need right a'bout now."

"Oh, well excuse me, Farmer Joe, for not pissing out sunshine over the fucking apocalypse." Nick said, advancing towards Ellis.

Ellis stood defensively, hands balled in fists. "If you wanna be a hopeless sack of shit, keep your comments to yourself 'cause some a'us actually wanna make it outta here alive."

"Do you honestly believe we're going to make it through two more goddamn states perfectly fucking fine?"

Ellis nodded. "Hell yeah I do, Nick. I think we can take on anything if we just work together."

Nick sighed in a condescending matter, chuckling at Ellis. "Even in the fucking apocalypse – even though we're fucking surrounded by death – you won't get your hillbilly head out of your over-fucked ass and realize that it's not going to happen!" Nick was yelling in Ellis' face now.

The rest of us watched the debacle silently. This was the closest thing we've seen to entertainment the past couple weeks. I looked over and Coach was shaking his head, annoyed, and Rochelle was still, though it showed in her eyes that it bothered her. I was more indifferent, worried their shouts might provoke a horde, but nothing echoed through this small, abandoned town except Nick's angry shouts.

Ellis stepped forward, his face red, and not from the sun. "I don't care what you say, Nick. You can stomp on our hopes all y'want, but I know that God is watchin' over me 'n all of us, and I know we'll make it there alright."

"You know what's going to be waiting for you when you die, Ellis? Nothing. Nothing but the dirt room you're gonna be buried in. Or a pile of fuckin' zombies. Wake up, asshole! Everyone you know is dead. You're girlfriend, your dog, that fuckin' Keith, your mom-"

Nick didn't get to finish his sentence. In the blink of an eye, Ellis' fist shot out and Nick was on the floor, his hands covering his face.

"Oh, my God!" Rochelle shouted. The three of us lurched forward, but Nick was already on his feet, hands smeared in his blood. He tackled Ellis around the waist and brought him to the floor, punching at any part of him he could find. He had him pinned, wailing mercilessly on Ellis' face. This only lasted a second though before I tackled Nick, shoving him off of Ellis. Coach plucked him from the ground, holding his arms behind him.

I pulled Ellis to his feet, and he was trembling with anger. His hat was knocked off, laying in the middle of the street, I grabbed it and handed to him. Rochelle stood, hands covering her mouth, shocked at how quickly it unfolded into a physical fight.

"You better calm yo ass down, Nick, or this 'bout to get ugly." Coach muttered to Nick. He scoffed, shaking himself free of Coach's hold and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the pavement. He was mumbling under his breath, and turned from us, walking the opposite way. He punched the stop sign in his bout of anger, before disappearing into a small corner-shop we previously scouted.

"Ellis, calm down." I attempted, gripping his upper arms to keep him in place. He was still cursing heatedly, casting murderous glances in Nick's direction.

"Goddamn asshole. A'should kill 'em for sayin' that…"

I pulled him to the sidewalk. "Don't listen to him, he was just trying to get to you…"

"What if he's right?" Ellis asked suddenly, looking at me. "What if e'ryone I know is dead?" He shook his head at himself. "I knew I shoulda stayed in Savannah. I was so goddamn worried 'bout savin' my own ass, I didn't even bother…"

"Don't say that, Ellis. Don't. It's not your fault if anything happened. Everything was so chaotic." I patted his bare back.

"That's no excuse for me leavin' e'rything and e'rybody I knew! Everything I was all about, I just forgot at the first sign a'trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if God ain't waitin' for me when I die…"

I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me. "Shut up! You're fine, we're alive, there's no point in dwelling on all that shit, it's done! Besides, Nick is an asshole, don't listen to him." I loosened my grip on his face, only holding his chin softly to keep his eyes on mine. My voice softened. "No matter what shit you pulled to get here, Ellis, I'm glad you're here."

A smile pulled at the edge of his mouth. "Do you-?"

"C'mon, ya'll, we're getting' the hell outta here." Coach shouted towards us. Rochelle was standing in front of Nick, apparently trying to calm him down too, wiping the blood from his mouth. I don't know what she was saying, but a smile broke on Nick's face.

The road ahead of us looked longer than ever.

* * *

"Zoey, what are we going to do?" Rochelle whispered to me. The sun was setting, and there was no safe house in sight.

"I'm sure we'll find somewhere to stay tonight." I shrugged. I wasn't too worried. There weren't that many infected around and we'd been in worse situations.

"That's not what I meant." Her voice dropped even lower, and her eyes stared ahead at the three men walking before us, Coach between Nick and Ellis, who were still fuming.

I looked at her quizzically when tears sprang into her eyes. "What'd you mean?"

"I mean – I'm just – earlier today scared me more than any zombie."

I reached out and took her hand. "It's going to be okay."

Except this time, I wasn't even sure myself.

* * *

"Shit!" I exclaimed. It's been two days, we just crossed the border into Alabama, running on no sleep, an empty stomach, and I was dangling from a tree over a pool of acid. Rochelle ran after Ellis, who'd been grabbed by a Smoker immediately after taking out the Spitter, swinging her axe and shouting. I didn't know where Coach and Nick were, it was getting dark and we were disorientated after the last horde.

Gunshot echoed around me, followed by shouting from Rochelle.

My fingers were loosening on the branch. I had no strength anymore, couldn't pull myself into the tree. I was lethargic and hungry and just wanted to sleep. The acid below me refused to die down, it just burnt through the muddy floor, sizzling and bubbling and green.

I felt like an idiot, and probably even looked like one.

"Need help?" Nick asked from behind me.

"Please." I said, my voice ragged.

"Okay, uh…" he said, thinking of the best way to go about this. The bruises on his face from the Charger were beginning to yellow and fade, but the one from Ellis' fist was still dark and blue. His suit jacket was now grey and splattered in blood, the blue polo beneath it torn in all sorts of places.

"Jump and I'll catch you." He said, walking in front of me and holding out his arms.

"Jump? How the hell am I supposed to-?"

"You know, like gymnasts do, swing back and forth." He said, ushering me impatiently, standing across the spreading acid puddle. "We don't got all day!"

I groaned, my arms aching something terrible. I tried to build up speed, but ended up just flailing my legs around like a moron.

Nick shook his head. "Do you wanna fall and burn to death?"

"No." I said, sweat beads dripping down my forehead.

"Then let's go, dammit!"

I pushed myself, kicking my legs forward then back like I was on a swing, building up momentum. When I was fairly confident I was going quick enough, I released the branch and flew forward.

Unfortunately, I went feet first, my legs colliding with Nick. He still tried to catch me, though, and his hands grabbed my backside. This just brought us both to the ground, barely missing the deadly pool beside us.

My left arm instinctively shot out to break my fall, and landed right in the acid.

I screamed, and rolled to my side, accidently kicking Nick in the face. As quick as I could I yanked myself free of my sweater, yet a couple drops managed to burn through the fabric and onto my flesh. Tears of agony sprang into my eyes as it seeped through my skin, blood pouring out. I didn't want to imagine what it would feel like laying in that puddle if only a couple drops hurt so bad.

"Relax, you're fine, you're fine!" Nick said, kneeling beside me. I held my arm out in the breeze, not wanting to touch it and burn my hand, just fruitlessly trying to cool the burning.

My sobs of pain turned into groans as the pain began to subside. I was sure it'd burn right through my arm, but I was thankful it hadn't reached bone.

"Ohmyfuckinggodohmyfuckinggod!" I chanted. My heart was fit to burst from my chest, hammering so hard and loud against my ribcage it hurt. My arm was bleeding heavily, dripping down into the mud and leaves.

"Shit, shit, shit." Nick said, pulling off his suit jacket.

"What happened?" Rochelle suddenly asked, falling to the ground on my other side. The other two appeared behind her, covered in blood, Ellis supporting Coach, attempting to get a bandage on his head. I felt like such an asshole, not being there to help them.

"Spitter." Nick said, tearing the sleeve of his jacket with his machete.

"Oh, my God, please tell me she didn't-"

"Just her arm. Quick, help me stop the bleeding." Nick ordered.

Rochelle held my arm tight as Nick wrapped the fabric of his suit around it. Immediately, the white was stained in my blood. He secured it tightly, chuckling at my face scrunched in pain, his sweat dripping onto my chest.

"Zoey? What happened? She alright?" Ellis asked, kneeling beside my head.

"I'm fine." I spat out in an extremely raspy voice. My arm was numb now, but the burning of the acid seemed etched into my skin. I sat up on my own, but Rochelle pulled me to my feet.

A loud thud to our left grabbed our attention. Coach lay on his side, unconscious.

"What the hell happened to him?" I asked, not wanting them to dwell on what happened to me.

"Took a blow to the head." Rochelle explained. "Wasn't that bad, but bein' we're all so damn tired and hungry, I'm not surprised he couldn't stay on his feet."

"C'mon, let's get the hell outta here." Ellis said, wrapping a supportive arm around my waist. I was growing dizzy from lack of food, sleep, and blood, leaning heavily into Ellis' side.

Nick and Rochelle had Coach's arms draped over their shoulders, carrying him as we made our way back onto the main road. It must have been comical, this frantic race of cripples.

* * *

"Please…I just want to sleep…" I begged, trying to slump to the floor.

"No, Zoey, it ain't safe here." Ellis said, holding me up straight.

"I don't care, I don't care. I'm just so tired…" My eyes were literally glued shut. It seemed to take so much strength just to blink. I didn't know where we were, or where we were going. I didn't know what time it was, how hungry I felt, and how much my arm hurt. All I knew was that I'd do anything just to lay down and sleep, but Ellis was so persistent on keeping me awake. Why wouldn't he just let me sleep?

He pulled me along some more. I let my feet drag in protest, but he didn't seem to notice. "C'mon Zo, girl, don't be a baby."

I made no response. Ellis had his right arm around my waist, pulling me along with ease. "I would literally kill somebody for sleep right now."

"Well, that just ain't right." Ellis chuckled. Suddenly the ground beneath me disappeared and Ellis' face was inches from mine. "Go on to sleep now, I got you."

I snuggled against his chest, basking in his warmth, my breathing falling in synchronization with his heartbeat.

* * *

The sun boring through my eyelids awoke me. I was outstretched on my back, a cloudless sky greeting me. I laid my arm across my sensitive eyes to shield them from the sun. Rolling over, I realized I was laying on Coach's left arm. He was still snoring, sound asleep despite the unbearable heat.

Sitting up, I put a hand to my aching skull. Only then did I see the world around me inching slowly past. "Where the hell are we?" I wondered, mostly to myself.

"A boat." Nick answered. I turned around and saw him sitting against cheap wooden railings. The whole boat itself looked as if it could fall apart any second, with floorboards cracked and sticking upwards and a cabin that looked feasted on by termites, but we were moving nonetheless.

The roaring of the engine didn't help my already pounding skull. "When the hell did we get on a boat? And where are the other two?"

"Ellis is steering the boat," Nick said with a heavy dose of annoyance. "and Rochelle is asleep somewhere in the cabin." I wondered why he seemed so relaxed today, only to see him pull a soggy pack of cigarettes from his pocket and light up, taking a deep drag. "Found 'em in there." He said when he noticed my gaze. I cringed when he let it hang from his lips. They were all wet and I imagined they tasted like lake water.

"Where are we?" I asked, yawning and stretching my sweat-soaked back.

Nick shrugged. "Hell if I know. All that matters is that this boat will get us as close as possible to Georgia, we found it in a small lake. 'Course there was a body on here, about right where you're layin' now…"

"Ew." I said, shifting and sitting beside Nick.

"Is Coach alright?" I wondered, my eyes falling on his sleeping form. His thick chest rose and fell steadily with every deep breath he took.

"Ah, yeah he's fine. He was awake for a bit before fallin' back asleep. You on the other hand, you were a pain in the fuckin' ass."

I shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

"Guess not."

I leaned my head back on the railing. "How long will it take?" I asked, never being good with guaging time.

"Do you ever get sick of asking questions?"

I just chuckled. "Nope." A deep sigh escaped me. How could I? I had so many questions, and not answers. My throat ached. "Is there any water?"

Nick pointed a finger to the water below us. "I'll hold onto your legs." He joked.

"You are just too damn funny."

* * *

"Rest In Peace, Betty."

"…did you seriously name the boat Betty?"

"Would you mind not talkin', Nick? I'm in mournin' here."

"It was a piece of shit, what's there to mourn?"

"You just don't appreciate nothin', do yah? Betty damn near saved our lives."

"Would you both cut it out?" Rochelle interfered, clearly annoyed.

The boat was up on a hill of rocks, the front completely smashed in. We managed a few days aboard before Ellis' fatigue took over, despite our attempts to switch drivers. He wouldn't give up the boat for anything.

"So, where are we now?" Coach asked, his eyes thick with sleep. His question was followed by a loud rumble from his stomach, one of many coming from everybody. "We needa get some damn food! Stale crackers and cereal only satisfy a man for so long…"

"Man, I second that." Ellis piped in, raising a hand.

"Back to what really matters, no offense Colonel Sanders." Nick interjected, turning towards Rochelle. "Where in the hell are we?"

"Few miles outside Montgomery, I think…" Rochelle said, studying the map intently.

"Wow, so that damn boat was useless." I said, shaking my head.

"That's not cool." Ellis shot me a stern look. I was in no mood: my head ached, my arm burnt, I was drenched in five pounds of sweat, I spent more time unconscious than sleeping and my stomach was beginning to eat itself.

"Let's just keep followin' the river into Montgomery, find somewhere to sleep, maybe something edible." Coach proposed. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I was getting pretty sick of floorboards. Not very easy to digest." Nick complained, rubbing his stomach.

I fell to the floor, leaning against a boulder, closing my eyes against the comforting sound of the river splashing against the rocks. The others followed suit, flinching as they lowered their sore muscles to the floor.

There was a terrifying howl, following by a blood-curdling scream. And when my head flew back up, Rochelle had disappeared.

* * *

"Fuck! Did anybody see what happened?" Nick shouted, gun raised. We scanned the area around us nervously, calling out for Rochelle.

"What the fuck was it?" Ellis demanded.

"Sounded like one'a those damn Smokers!" Coach responded.

My heartbeat quickened. Beads of sweat trickled down my face, I wiped them from my eyes impatiently. My pistols were in every direction. Desperately as we were to find her, we were too scared to move from our tight circle.

Something in the river before us caught my eye. Rochelle's boot. My stomach dropped into my butt. "Fuck, the river!" I shouted.

Ellis didn't hesitate. He dropped his weapons to the ground and charged forward into the roaring current. Rochelle's feet were flailing wildly, and from there I followed the slimy tongue into the trees, where I could barely make out the shape of a Smoker, though the green cloud of smoke gave him away.

"There he is, take him out!" I said to Coach and Nick. We opened fire, not stopping until I emptied both my clips into it. I started to reload before I watched it's corpse fall into a heap on the floor, black goo oozing from every orifice.

Ellis resurfaced, completely drenched, carrying Rochelle. Nick and Coach heaved him from the current before he was swept away. When they reached land she pulled from him, falling to the floor and heaving up mouthfuls of murky water. Ellis had his hand on her back, the other on his knee, breathing heavily.

Nick wrapped his torn jacket around her shoulders, and I knelt beside her.

"I-I-I got stuck...couldn't breathe…" Rochelle stuttered out, her voice wavering severely in pitch. "I thought I was going to d-d-die." She choked, and broke into sobs. Ellis collected her into his arms, and she cried into his neck. They weren't sobs of sadness or loss, but of pure terror.

* * *

I didn't know how much time passed. Could have been days, could have been weeks. Time ceased to matter, practically ceased to exist. The only thing keeping us together was the refugee camp, the thought of safety, of sleeping without fear, of eating a warm meal…I almost didn't want to think of it, it made me ache.

I swore we were beginning to lose our minds. Hours spent trudging in one hundred degree heat isn't exactly prescribed for a healthy state of mind. We began killing zombies in almost grotesque ways, using them as an outlet for our insanity.

Once after decapitating a woman infected, we proceeded to play hot-potato with the head. And it bothered none of us. It didn't hit me until later how fucked up that was.

Georgia was almost completely abandoned. No matter what, I always held onto the hope that we would maybe run into some other survivors. If four average people like us could make it, why couldn't others? I had long given up on Francis and Louis, no longer hunting for closure. Now I yearned for contact besides the four I was used to. I wanted too see my family, see my friends, more than anything I wanted to be back at school, in the dorm I always hated, with the teachers who seemed to want me to fail, with the job that always forgot when payday came around…

We were walking at a fairly leisurely pace, not having come in contact with any infected for an hour or so. That didn't exactly mean we were keeping up conversation, either. The un-eventfulness had me bored to tears; I was growing more tired every minute not having anything to shoot.

After a while we entered a quaint town outside of Savannah. Ellis' anxiety was not unbeknownst to the rest of us, for the past hundred miles he wouldn't keep quiet about how close we were, how he knew exactly where we were headed, sharing stories about places we passed. None of us had the strength to shut him up anymore.

I didn't know the name of this town, and I didn't even really care. The streets were jam packed with cars, we had to weave this way and that.

"Man, these abandoned cars go on for miles." Nick complained.

"Maybe they left 'em here when they got rescued." Coach retorted hopelessly.

"That's…a way of looking at it."

"That would explain why there's nobody here." Rochelle agreed with Coach.

"Or maybe they're all walking around, moaning and feasting on flesh." Nick muttered cynically.

"Then where are all of them?" I asked.

Nick shrugged. "Hell if I know. Do I look like a zombie tech?"

"Where would _you_ go if you were a zombie?" Ellis wondered, amused.

Coach just laughed, but didn't answer.

"I wonder if they know they're zombies." I said aloud.

"If they did, they wouldn't be eating people." Nick shot back.

"It's not like they can control it." Rochelle said. "Kind of like you and smoking, Nick. You know you're a smoker, you know it's bad, but you still do it, right?"

"Touché."

* * *

_The People of Savannah Welcome You!_

"Ellis, slow down!" Rochelle yelled after him. "Be careful, you don't know what's out here!"

"I know everything that's out here!" He shouted back, running down the road.

"Boy, get yo ass back here!" Coach hollered, then paused, wondering if he triggered a horde.

Ellis disappeared around the corner. We ran past a grocery store, a clothes store, a pharmacy, a mechanics, all while trying to catch up to Ellis. It wasn't smart to separate in a town we just got to, but I couldn't exactly blame Ellis. This was his home.

When we first got here, I saw how much it hurt him to see houses burnt down, cars overturned, bikes laying abandoned in the road. Every house he passed he'd mumbled the name of the family who lived there, followed by a short prayer.

I was immersed in my thoughts, that's why I didn't see Ellis until I ran right into him. He didn't notice, just stared straight ahead, like stone. The others caught up a few moments later, panting and cursing.

"What the hell, Ellis?" Nick asked between gasps. "Did we have a goddamn witch on our ass or something?"

When Ellis didn't answer we all looked at what he was looking at: a two story house, yellow with a large white porch, the swing rocking back and forth in the breeze.

I grabbed hold of Ellis' hand, and he squeezed. The front door was knocked in, the windows broken. There was blood on the front steps.

Tears bubbled in Ellis' eyes, before choking out in a furious voice: "Welcome home, motherfucker."


	9. Chapter 9

_Dear readers, forgive me for I have sinned. It's been three (or four) months since my last update. Short chapter, I know. Chapter 10 will be the final chapter. But wipe those tears away, there's a World War Zo II in thee works._

* * *

"Can you guys just…gimme a minute?" Ellis asked with his back still turned to us. He didn't wait for a response, and made his way up to the front steps.

I looked from the group to Ellis. I had no right to push my way into his personal struggle right now, but I had come to know more about Ellis, and if I learned anything it was that he always wanted someone there beside him. I waited a couple minutes before I left the rest of them on the sidewalk and ran up the front porch, stepping over the broken door.

The house still looked clean. There was a pot on the stove and plates set on the kitchen table. Except for one, which was shattered and scattered on the wooden floor. A lamp that was on the side table beside the sofa was unplugged and clearly broken on the ground, perhaps from being used as a weapon. The windows were shattered as if they were punched through. I assumed that's how they got in here.

I stepped over overturned chairs and ignored the bloody handprints on the wall, looking for Ellis. I heard footsteps from the floor above me, and hurried up the staircase. "Ellis?" I whispered. I heard shuffling in a room at the end of the hallway, and jogged towards it.

I peered through the slightly ajar door.

A woman was standing in the middle of the room; her head drooped over her chest. She was in a white night gown that was splattered with blood and stained with black goo. She had shoulder length brown hair that looked like it had been in curlers. I quickly stepped back from the door, taking a few steps backward quietly. I stared at the pictures on the wall to figure out who this woman might be, and swallowed hard: Ellis' mom.

What was I supposed to do? Kill her? Wait for Ellis to find her so he can kill her himself? Leave her up here?

I wouldn't let Ellis kill his own mother. That would stay with him, mess him up more than anything else we've encountered. But I couldn't just kill her myself. What do I say? 'Oh, Ellis, by the way I shot your mom'?

I bit my lip hard, pulling my pistol from my belt. What happened next occurred so quickly I was ashamed of having worried about it.

She had her back to me when I entered the room. I grabbed a pillow from the bed and put it up against her head to muffle the sound of my gunshot, and fired just as she turned towards me. I caught her corpse before she could hit the ground, and froze immediately after, listening for Ellis.

Where the hell was he, anyways?

But I took this opportunity to swing her body so that I was cradling her and carry her into the bathroom across the hall. I laid her in the bathtub and folded her hands like it's done at funerals. I wanted Ellis to think that someone who cared about her had done the deed, and did her the honor of dying with some dignity. Back in the bedroom, I stuffed the brain matter-soaked pillow in a far corner of the closet.

I crept back down the staircase just as Ellis emerged from another door across the foyer.

"Zoey? Did somethin' happen, is everybody still out there?" He asked, looking out the front door window.

"No, I was looking for you…where were you?"

Ellis rubbed the back of his neck. "I was lookin' around the basement. My old man's gun ain't here no more. I hope Ma learned to use it before she left…"

My chest tightened painfully. "Ellis…there's something you need to see."

* * *

Ellis stood over the bathtub, staring down at his mother's body. I stood behind him, chewing on my inner cheek. He was silent for a very long time.

"'N you found her like this?" he finally said, not looking at me.

I nodded. "Yes." I lied.

I saw his hands ball into fists. "Ellis…" I whispered, reaching out for his hand. He pulled his arm away, falling onto his knees beside his mother.

"She was a fuckin' zombie." He said, and the despair he felt was evident in his voice. He brushed back a strand of his mother's hair that had fallen astray on her sickly flesh. "A fuckin' zombie!" He shouted, slamming his fists on the side of the tub.

I jumped at the unexpected noise.

Ellis was muttering to himself. "It's all my fault…I shoulda been here…" He said, shaking his head.

"It's not your-" I began.

Ellis jumped to his feet, swiveling around and grabbing me roughly by the shoulders. "Don't you fuckin' get it, Zo? It's my fault!" He gave me a hard shake. "I could have protected her and instead I ran off like a fuckin' pussy!" He released me, and I stumbled backwards, catching myself on the counter. I'd never seen him so angry.

Ellis suddenly let out a shout of anger and sent his fist flying into the mirror behind me, barely missing my face. Glass fell all over the counter. I backed into the door, watching him with wide eyes.

He leaned over the sink, blood flowing from his knuckles. It took a few minutes for him to calm down, and when he did, he said: "We gotta bury her."

* * *

In the backyard of Ellis' house, I stood next to Rochelle as we watched Coach, Nick and Ellis digging a hole for his mom. Her body lay a few feet away, wrapped in the quilt from her bed. Looking at her concealed corpse, flashbacks from the night I found Bill flooded my head. Thinking about him still hurt, but I couldn't imagine how it felt for Ellis. This was his mother.

I kept a reasonable distance from Ellis after his outburst. This time I was genuinely unsure if he wanted me to be there for him. This wasn't something a pat on the back and a few kind words could fix.

The sun was almost set by the time Ellis lowered his mother's body into the hole and refilled it. Coach insisted on saying a few words, but Ellis wouldn't hear it. He lowered his head in prayer for a few minutes, before turning around and heading back into the house without a word.

"So, I guess that means we're staying here tonight." Nick stated softly. There was no sarcasm in his words. We were all hurting for Ellis, despite some of the things we've said to each other in the past.

Coach nodded, along with Rochelle. "Area don't seem so bad around here, we can risk a night, take turns on watch. We'll just let Ellis on alone, though. Kid need's a break."

* * *

Nick got a few hours of sleep before he came outside to relieve me of watch. I stood up and stretched. There was literally no action in this part of town.

"Go on to bed, kid." He said, patting my back.

I nodded, handing him the shotgun. "'Night, Nick."

Rochelle and Coach took the two couches in the living room, leaving their guns on the armchair next to them. I yawned and trudged upstairs to look for an extra bed. I wondered where Ellis was sleeping, so I avoided the door that was closed.

There was a small guest room next to his mother's room, a cot in the middle. I tossed my sweater and shoes off to the side, peeling off my jeans. I hadn't slept comfortably in a while, but I was positive there was nothing around this area and if there were, it would have showed itself already.

I climbed under the sheets and closed my eyes, exhausted, and expected to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But for the next hour I was tossing and turning, unable to keep my eyes closed long enough. I kept thinking about Ellis in the other room, and how he must be feeling. I'd never felt somebody else's pain like this before, and even if he didn't need me, I wasn't going to make him endure this alone.

I climbed from the bed, leaving my sweater and jeans on the ground, and padded quietly down the hall towards the one room with a closed door. I opened it slightly and peered into the dark room, waiting for my eyes to adjust before I saw Ellis' sleeping form on the bed. His back was to me and he was facing the wall.

I slipped into the room and closed the door tightly behind me, walking on my tip toes to Ellis' bed. I sat on the edge, looking down at him as he slept, his bare chest rising and falling. I didn't want to wake him; I wasn't even sure what I was doing there in the first place.

I shifted my weight and I assumed this is what woke him, because he blinked a few times before looking over his shoulder at me. "Zoey?" He asked, sitting up and turning to me.

I brought my legs up on the bed and moved closer to him, taking his left hand in mine. I gazed at him for a while, trying to think of what to say. I could come up with nothing better than: "I'm so sorry, Ellis." I whispered. Our eyes stayed locked on each other's, even when his began to fill with tears.

A drop escaped his eye and trailed down his cheek. I reached out, cradling the side of his face with my palm, wiping it away with my thumb. "Don't cry." I whispered soothingly, and he leaned into my hand, shaking his head.

A sudden rush overcame me as I stared at Ellis' face in my hands, more tears bubbling behind his eyelids. I would do anything to keep him from crying, to stop whatever was making him hurt, because it was making me hurt, too. Just then it occurred to me: Ellis and I were irrevocably dependent on each other, no matter how much either of us fought that revelation, it was true. Ellis hurt when I hurt, and I for him. And I couldn't find a problem with that.

I couldn't bear to see him hurt any longer. "Ellis…" I cooed. He looked up at me. I caressed the side of his face, subtly pulling him closer to me, my hand sliding down to his neck.

Ellis took me by surprise, skipping the formalities of it all and crushing his mouth to mine. Before I could object, let alone react, his hands grabbed my waist roughly, pulling me into him. When I tried to part from his lips, he wasn't having it. His hand moved from my waist and to the back of my head, twining in my hair and keeping my face locked onto his.

It took a second for it to sink in. This wasn't just about what he wanted, it's what he needed. And as another one of the few remaining humans on this planet, I wasn't going to deny him this. I wasn't going to deny myself this.

A moment later and I was kissing him back just as hard, my hands holding the back of his neck tightly. It was as if we were both ravenously hungry for each other, it seemed we couldn't get close enough to each other fast enough.

And I wondered why I had fought back my feelings for him. I had nobody waiting for me, and as far as I knew, neither did he. It was a bad idea to fall for someone in times like these, but I couldn't control it, and I wasn't going to lie to myself anymore.

I lay down on the bed, pulling him on top of me without breaking the kiss. I hitched a leg over his hip to keep him in place while my hands roamed up and down his bare torso.

Ellis' kissing slowed and softened considerably all of a sudden. His hand moved up, cradling the side of my face. I felt wetness on his cheeks, dripping down into our kiss. He pulled away and looked down at me, his eyes red and puffy, his cheeks stained with tears.

"I'm sorry, Zoey." He said, and started to sit up. I grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the bed, resting his head on my chest, knowing he would need my shoulder to cry on.

His arms encircled my waist like a pillow, his head resting on my chest. I was sure he could hear my hammering heart. My hands were caressing his hair.

I could feel his tears staining my tank top. His breath hitched suddenly, and he began to sob.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok guys. I lied. This isn't the last chapter. There's just no way I could get everything in here without it being extremely long, so I cut it in half. So, Chapter _11 _will be the final chapter. I swear. Sorry for the length, I was feeling creative. Please review! I'd really appreciate it. Enjoy.**

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* * *

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Ellis had finally calmed down. I said nothing to him the entire time, I just waited while he let it out, not caring that he was soaking the chest of my tank with his tears. My hands were in his hair, combing through it soothingly.

We lay there in silence, my head lulling onto the pillow. Ellis' breathing slowed and deepened as he dozed off on my chest.

Just as I slipped into unconsciousness, Ellis suddenly rolled off of me and onto his back, sprawling out on the other side of the bed, jarring me awake.

"Zoey," He said, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah?" I mumbled groggily, rubbing my eyes.

"I've been thinkin'…you know that body we found down by the chopper crash? The old guy?"

I sat upright, suddenly at attention, taking him by surprise. "What about him?"

Ellis looked up at me. "You knew him." He stated, sounding factual.

I sat silently while I thought of what to say. When no response came to me, I sighed, defeated. "Yes." I said, leaning back against the wall. "I did…How did you-"

He shrugged. "I ain't never seen you hurt so much as you did when we found 'em."

I chewed on my inner cheek. "Yeah. He was a good man." That was the understatement of the century.

Ellis stared up at me, thinking of how to phrase his next question. I answered it before he had a chance. "Yes, I was on the helicopter when it crashed."

He sat up, leaning back against the wall, too. His face was sympathetic. "How'd you make it?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "I almost didn't. I was barely alive when you guys found me. I would have bled out."

Ellis nodded, mulling this over. "'N was it just you two?" He pressed, unable to hold back his curiosity now that I was finally talking about it.

I shook my head. "No. There was four of us…" My breath suddenly hitched in my throat. "Bill, the one we found, Louis and…" I hesitated before naming the last, looking up at Ellis. "Francis."

Ellis' lips pursed briefly, but I didn't miss it. "You don't know what happened to the rest of 'em?"

My eyes fell on my hands. "No."

Ellis took my hand and began playing with my fingers, keeping his eyes down. "This Francis…"

"Ellis," I scoffed, pulling my hand away. "don't worry about it…" I said. I didn't want to think about him, for fear my voice would give it away and I'd cave. I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly, turning my head away.

Ellis stayed silent beside me. "Well, when I try to get close to you and ya'mutter another guys name…I think that's a pretty damn good reason to worry…"

"No, it's not." I snapped. "He's dead Ellis. Gone. So you can stop trying to compete with a guy who isn't even alive anymore." I said, much more hostile than intended, and leapt from the bed. Saying that hurt. It was one thing to think about it, but to finally admit out loud that Francis was probably gone, was a whole different story.

I paced around the room. Now Ellis had me thinking about it, and I wasn't going to stop. Francis was in my head, and just like what always happens when I start thinking about him, I can't stop. A whole jumble of emotions overcame me every time. Guilt, fear, anxiety, sadness, anger…

"Did you love him?" Ellis asked sheepishly from the bed.

I swiveled around. "Shut up!" I shouted. "He's gone! I'm never going to see him again! So just shut up!" My temper had gotten the better of me, especially since I had hardly been provoked.

Ellis looked taken aback, but I was pretty positive that after today, no emotional outburst of mine could phase him.

He got up from the bed and walked around to stand in front of me. "I wasn't askin' you outta jealousy, Zo…" He said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I was wonderin' if you missed him…as much as I miss some people…so that I don't feel so damn alone."

I kept my eyes on his quietly, not exactly sure how to respond. "Yes. I miss him. I miss him so much that sometimes I can hardly think of a reason to keep fighting."

I could see Ellis' expression fall slightly at my words, but he didn't retreat. He nodded, taking a step back. Except I took a step forward, filling the space between us. I took a hold of both his hands, looking up at him. "Ellis…I can't make myself forget him. But right this minute, I can't think of anybody else I'd rather have my back."

Ellis smiled brightly against the dark room. "We gon' make it outta here together no matter what, I can promise you that."

I nodded, pushing my lips onto his. It started out slow and comforting, taking on the mood in the room. But after a minute, our hands began to roam, and the kiss grew deeper, more feverish. It felt like we had just discovered each other for the first time, and I wondered why I didn't give in to him sooner, because I was sure as hell missing out.

* * *

I don't know how long it was but eventually we laid down to sleep for good. I rolled over and curled into a ball, hitching the blanket over my shoulders, ready for sleep. I felt Ellis behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck.

My eye's scanned the room habitually, landing on a picture of his mother on top of the dresser. I remembered what I'd done, and how I'd lied about it. I felt guilty; not for the reason one would think, I felt guilty because I didn't feel guilty about doing it. I wondered what kind of person that made me.

* * *

When I could finally peel my eyes open, I had to squint to get used to the sunny room. The windows weren't boarded up, the house was left almost exactly as it was, and I remembered the risk we were taking sleeping here. But I didn't get out of bed. I rolled over on my back, staring at the ceiling fan. If I really tried, going only by the room I was in, it almost felt like a normal world was awaiting me outside this house.

A couple minutes later reality set in and I thought about how close we were to South Carolina, how close we were to salvation. I daydreamed about what was waiting for all of us there. A hot shower? A hot meal? Sleeping peacefully? The comforting knowledge of safety?

Ellis was still snoring lightly to my left. I slid out of bed and dressed quietly, trying not to wake him up just yet. He needed as much rest as he could get.

As I descended down the stairs, I slid my pistols into my belt. Everybody was awake already. Nick was leaning against the front door frame, Coach thinking intently over the map, and Rochelle was sitting beside him on the couch, staring down at her hands. She looked up at my approach, jumping to her feet and bounding towards me.

Nobody, least of all me, was expecting it when she sent her fist into my eye.

* * *

"Ow," I flinched. Nick held my chin to keep my head in place as he pressed the cool compress against my eye. "cut it out!"

"Quit moving around, then!"

I held still, gritting my teeth. He was being unnecessarily aggressive. "What was Rochelle's problem?" I asked quietly. She didn't hold back, either, for such a small person she put a considerable amount of force into it. What had I done to piss her off? After she swung at me, I half expected her to either pounce on me or have to be restrained yet wanting to pounce on me. Instead, she gave me a black eye, turned on her heel, and plopped back down on the couch before anybody could react.

I didn't ask her what her problem was, my eye had hurt so bad. I ran to the bathroom, and Nick followed to help, which, needless to say, surprised the both of us.

Nick shrugged, but I could see that he knew. "Maybe she has a little crush on Ellis…"

I shoved his shoulders away from me in the cramped bathroom. "Not funny, Nick. Seriously, don't lie to me."

He took a step back, pinching the bridge of his nose, staying silent for a few moments. His voice lowered. "She knows what you did."

I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. Nick looked down at me tiredly, leaning back against the counter.

"I…I didn't…what did I do?"

"Don't play games, Zoey. I saw."

He knew I shot Ellis' mom and lied about it. "But…so what? What's it to you? You don't even like Ellis…And how did Rochelle even find out?"

"I told her."

He could tell I was surprised. Nick was definitely not the 'sharing' type of person… "I still don't understand…you guys don't understand. I had to do it!" I said, lowering my voice when I realized I was almost yelling.

"I don't think it's just the fact you shot his mother that pissed her off…I think it's also that you lied about it, and then crawled into bed with him." At this, Nick too looked annoyed.

I bit my inner cheek. They were making it sound so terrible. It didn't seem wrong in my mind. I shook my head at him. "You guys are wrong. You don't know anything…"

I tried to leave the bathroom, but Nick grabbed hold of my arms and shoved me back to where I was standing, bringing his face an inch from mine. "You want to know what I know? I know you're a selfish human being with no thought of anybody but herself. You lost your fuck buddy now you're here stringing Ellis along. And you know what's going to happen when we finally reach Charleston? You'll forget about him. You'll forget about all of us." He said this through gritted teeth, spitting these words out at me.

How could Nick say that? It sounded nothing like me, or so I thought. Of course I was hurting over Francis, but Ellis meant a lot to me. I didn't want to forget these people.

Of course I didn't want to, but would I?

The answer was yes. As soon as we were safe I knew I planned on branching off onto my own. Wasn't that the unspoken agreement we all had from the beginning? Were we expected to depend on each other for the rest of our lives?

And Ellis. Would I leave him?

Then I realized that I would. And I could. I believed I'd be able to walk away from him easier than I should be able to. In the face of the apocalypse I couldn't figure out what was important to _me _and what was important to my survival. What was I ruling by, instincts or emotions? Was I stringing Ellis along simply to keep myself alive, or was it because I wanted him for myself?

My eyes began to sting at my selfish revelation. I nodded. "I know, I know…"

Nick didn't back away as I assumed he would, he stared down at me while tears began streaming down my face.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just…what's going to happen to us?" I had never asked Nick a sincere question as this before, not a question that my emotional stability depended on. And I asked myself: Why did I let Ellis fall in love with me? I never did a thing to prevent it, never said anything to him to make him think he shouldn't…was it my fault we'll both end up hurt in the end?

"That's something bigger than us, kid." He said, his voice softening. He leaned down, pressing his lips against my forehead. He said the next thing with a sour expression. "It'll lie in the governments hands."

* * *

"Ellis, we're heading that way." Coach piped in, pointing the opposite direction that Ellis was walking. We all paused where we were standing outside his house.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wanna stop on over by my old mechanic shop…Only a block this way. I'm pretty darn sure I can get a ride for us if you guys will gimme some time." Ellis proposed.

We all looked at each other, except Rochelle. She avoided my eyes. At least, she avoided the eye that wasn't purple and swelling. When Ellis asked what happened, Nick told him the most obvious lie in the book: I fell into a doorknob. The worse part was Ellis believed him.

"Uh…of course we'd wait for a ride, what kind of question is that?" Nick said.

"Well, that depends." Coach added. "Are you sure ya'll can get a ride together? I don't wanna sit 'round here waitin' and end up just killin' time…"

Rochelle said nothing, just leaned against the mailbox with an exasperated sigh.

Ellis gave Coach a look. "Are you doubtin' me, Coach? I'm damn near the best mechanic 'round here!" He exclaimed.

Nick looked at the abandoned town around us. "That's not exactly saying much, Overalls."

* * *

Ellis was in the back of the shop, hidden beneath the hood of an old pickup truck. Coach helped as much as he could to get things moving, but his limited knowledge of cars did little. Nick was sprawled out in the bench of the truck, while Rochelle and I were on the sidewalk out front, keeping watch.

"Pretty dead around here, huh?" I said, attempting small talk.

She nodded, not looking at me, and continued pacing up and down the sidewalk. We sat in silence for a long time.

"Ellis, are you almost done in there?" I yelled from outside.

His voice was muffled under the hood. "Just about, gimme a minute and she'll be runnin' like brand spankin' new!"

I could hear Nick snoring from the bed of the truck. I wished Ellis would hurry, it was increasingly awkward out here with Rochelle and my swollen eye. I'd cast side glances in her direction and often find her staring at my black eye. I knew she felt guilty, but she was also too angry to apologize for it.

After some more time I gave in. "Rochelle, look, I know you know." I began in heated whispers. "But I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't let him do it himself. I didn't want him to have to live with that."

She stared blankly at me. "I want to understand, Zoey. But I can't."

I took a step forward. "Why don't you understand?"

"How could you do that to someone to supposedly care about? Lie to them about something like that? Then crawl into bed with them like nothing happened, was it a way to make yourself feel better? I'm sorry. I just don't get it." Rochelle shook her head at me, looking everywhere but my eyes.

I thought of how to respond in order to make myself seem like less of an asshole. "I don't know how to explain it to you other than to say I felt it was the right thing to do." I couldn't tell her I felt terrible about it. I dug around myself to feel something; guilt, sadness, regret…but I showed no signs of any of those.

Rochelle stared at a building across the street.

"How can I fix this between us?" I asked.

A thought ran through my head. We were almost to Charleston. Why did I want to repair things between me and Rochelle? Did I honestly care that she punched me in the eye, or what she thought about me? Was I worried about our friendship?

No.

My motive was to fix things between us so I could be sure she'd feel obligated to watch my back. So I wouldn't have to fear her using a personal grudge against me to toss me to the zombies. It was a selfish move. I was a terrible person.

Rochelle finally met my eyes. "It's not you and I you should be trying to fix. You need to tell Ellis."

"No way, that would defeat the whole purpose!" I argued.

"Not entirely. He still didn't have to kill his own mother."

I bit my lip. A screeching cry suddenly permeated the air, coming from the roofs above us. "What the-" I didn't have time to finish my exclamation. A dark figure suddenly dropped directly on top of me, bringing me to the ground. My back slammed hard against the pavement; I could feel the gravel pierce my skin through my sweater. I immediately knew it was a Hunter. It was shrieking in my face, it's saliva showering me as it took it's claws to my flesh. I thrashed beneath it, trying to shout but ended up choking on my own voice.

Blood. A lot of blood. I was positive it had torn out my insides.

I was relieved of it's weight as it disappeared from on top of me. I couldn't see through the shroud of darkness that overcame my vision. I tried to move my hand, willed my muscles to cooperate so I could defend myself, but nothing happened. My head fell limp into the sidewalk. I heard shouts, but couldn't form them into words.

I didn't feel the ground below me anymore, somebody's arms curled underneath me. This movement brought searing pain from my torn flesh. My eyes fluttered open and I hollered, before slinking into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Hold it on there, god dammit!"

"Could you drive a little more slowly?"

"We gotta stop the blood!"

"Shit, shit, shit, stay with me, Zo!"

"Give me your shirt."

"You sure you shot that mother fucker?"

_"Is she going to make it?"_

_

* * *

_

My eye's felt like they were glued together. I peeled them open to see the lightening sky above me, only to notice it was moving. Looking around me I realized I was in the bed of a truck, sprawled on my back. How I got there was a mystery to me.

I tried to move, to sit up, but the pain that came with it was so severe I had no choice but to fall back into the bed. I grinded my teeth in agony. I tried to fight through the haze of pain and fatigue and remember what happened.

I was talking to Rochelle. There was a noise. I woke up here.

My mouth was dry. That was all I could think about: how thirsty I was.

The truck drove over something big, pushing me around. I fought back the urge to cry.

"Aye, you're awake." Ellis said soothingly, suddenly appearing next to me. His eyes had circles under them. "Oh, thank Jesus you're awake!"

I nodded. My mouth was so dry, I was afraid I couldn't talk. "Water?" I croaked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ellis assured. He stuck his head through the back window of the truck. When he reappeared, he tilted the bottle towards my lips and I had to lift my head to keep it from spilling. I drank it greedily.

"What happened?" I asked after I downed the bottle.

"Hunter." Ellis said, brushing hair out of my face. "Got you pretty good, too…"

It all came back to me. "How long was I out?"

"Almost two days. Only thing that kept me goin' was feelin' your heartbeat…I was sure you was a goner."

"Have you slept?"

"Not much."

Ignoring all my muscles joining together in protest, I slid myself over to the right side of the truck, giving Ellis plenty of room to my left. He hesitated at first, but the thought of sleep was too enticing for him. He lay on his back next to me.

We lay in silence for a while.

"I thought you were gon' die."

I slid my hand into his. "Guess it just wasn't my time."

* * *

"But we're almost out of gas!" Rochelle said, referring to the pickup truck that was covered in blood, guts, and bits of clothing. Completed with a cracked windshield from plowing through zombies. Ellis wasn't underestimating when he told us this thing was a beast of a machine.

"Yeah, and we're also almost there!" Coach retorted, keeping his eyes on the road. His words lit a bit of hope in all of us.

"Well, we sure as hell won't get there without any gas." She muttered, leaning back against the passengers seat.

"Ro, have you somehow managed to forget everything that has happened in the past several weeks? Now, if we can't make it there on foot I don't know how the hell we managed to survive this long." Coach said, angrier than I'd ever seen him. I was sure he was just anxious to finally get to Charleston. If the apocalypse ever chose a time to really wear on Coach, it was now. We were so close to salvation we could almost taste it. Though that was probably literal in Coach's case. We had all lost weight, but it was on Coach that it really showed.

"Jeez, Rochelle," Nick said, mock exasperation. "if I didn't know any better I'd mistake you for my ex-wife."

Rochelle huffed in response, turning her head towards the window. Nick, Ellis and I were in the bed of the truck, listening through the opened back window, guns loaded, picking off zombies we passed and others who were a distance away just for fun. It was still extremely painful for me to move, and as soon as I got the chance at our first rest-stop I assessed the damage.

My torso took the brunt of the attack with lacerations so deep I was surprised my entrails weren't hanging out. It tore through the fabric of both my sweater and my shirt, leaving patches of my wounded flesh exposed. Every time I came in contact with someone or something, even the breeze, it stung horribly, setting my unprotected nerves on fire. They patched me up as best they could, even managed to disinfect the wounds, wrapping cheap, some handmade, bandages around me.

Looking at myself, I thanked the Lord I was immune. Then an unmistakable wave of hate washed over me. If there was a Lord, he wasn't getting my thanks for what he was allowing to happen to us. I spat on the ground in his honor.

* * *

We had all grown tired of Rochelle's bantering, and finally stopped at a deserted gas station. I went into the convenience store alone with my pistols. The air was thick with dust that unsettled as I pushed open the door. The light on the ceiling was flickering ominously, a bloody streak on the counter beside the register, which was broken into and cleared out.

Most of the shelves were empty or knocked over. I stepped over the corpse of a young woman who wore a uniform bearing the gas stations logo. I didn't look too closely at her, as she was ripped completely open.

The only thing thicker than the dust was the smell. It was a stench unlike any other, all bottled up in this store without any circulation of air. I pulled the collar of my shirt over my nose, which helped little.

I moved up and down the aisles, picking up things here and there: sunflower seeds, a box of gauze, a loaf of bread and some peanut butter. These were pretty much all that was left in the store. In the freezer section, I took a heavy bag of ice that we could let melt for drinking water. Carrying all this, I was forced to stick my pistols in my belt.

As I made my way to the door, I saw Ellis pumping what little gas was left into the truck, a triumphant smile on his face nonetheless.

Before I walked out, I remembered something and turned back towards the cash register. Behind the counter, I stuck my knife into the lock and opened up the glass case, grabbing two packs of cigarettes for Nick. Now my hands were really full.

I made to step over the body. I looked down. It wasn't there anymore.

Simultaneously, my stomach dropped in shock and I sensed something behind me. I hesitated not one second before I swung the bag of ice in my hands, using all the strength I could muster, into the face of the infected woman who had just re-risen. It stumbled onto it's side, and I took this chance to drop the ice and reach for my pistols. Only it regained its composure quicker than I estimated, and as it lunged towards me again I dropped everything that I had and resorted to my fists, planting a right hook into the side of its head. I felt the blood and goo from it's deteriorating skull on my knuckles.

It stood again, but this time I had my gun ready. I took one last look at it lumbering slowly towards me, it's stomach torn completely open and spilling out as it walked, it's hands outreached towards me, grasping for what it couldn't have. I sent one clean shot between it's eyes, watching it fall to the ground and perish for the second time.

I gathered everything back into my arms and made my way leisurely towards the truck.

"There you are, get anything good?" Coach wondered. I tossed everything I found into the bed, and they eyed the blood-stained bag of ice wearily.

"What's on your hand?" Rochelle asked, reaching for it. I pulled it back, wiping it hastily on my jeans. I didn't feel like sharing.

"Well, let's get a move on." Nick said, clapping his hands. "Overalls here was able to suck just about enough juice outta here."

Ellis nodded triumphantly. "Yeah, it was nothin'…" He said modestly.

"Oh, that reminds me." I said, reaching into the pocket of my torn sweater. I tossed the two packets of cigarettes at Nick, who caught them without a problem. He stared down at them, then at me.

"Zoey, I really never, ever thought I'd say this…but I fucking love you." He exclaimed, grabbing a hold of my face and planting a kiss on me. I pulled back.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now you owe me." I said, ignoring Ellis' disapproving glare.

Nick jumped in the back of the truck happily, immediately lighting a cigarette, inhaling and leaning back with a content smirk on his face. It was a sight, really. How that nowadays the littlest things brought us happiness.

Coach and Rochelle climbed in the front seat. Ellis turned to me. "How yah feelin'?"

I shrugged. "I've seen better days."

He smiled. "Haven't we all?" He leaned in for a kiss, only to be interrupted by the ground below us beginning to tremble.

* * *

Ellis hopped quicker than me into the truck, leaning over the side and hauling me in as Coach floored it.

"Agh, leave it to a fucking Tank to ruin a perfectly good cigarette!" Nick shouted, tossing his bud onto the street just as Ellis was pulling me over the side of the truck. Coach swerved on the road, and I fell the rest of the way in, landing directly on my stomach. I groaned loudly.

Rochelle poked through the passenger side window, sitting half-out, half-in. "Take it out!" She demanded, aiming her AK steadily, opening fire.

We all composed ourselves, readying and loading our guns. The snapping and locking sounds of our weapons echoed around us, only to be drowned out by the Tanks bellowing roar.

It was still a way's down the street, but close enough to hit. Coach tried to drive as steady as possible, but it was hard with overturned cars and bodies laying in the streets.

My ears popped with the exploding butt's of rifles in my ear. The Tank was moving faster than any I had seen, this one probably being more desperate for a meal. People were growing rather scarce nowadays.

I emptied an entire magazine on it, but I had no why of knowing if my bullets reached it or not. "Fuck!" I exclaimed, falling back into the bed to reload.

"Coach, swerve!" Ellis hollered. I looked up to see a hunk of the road flying towards the truck. Coach broke hard and swerved, sending the truck into a tailspin. Ellis fell onto his back, Nick somehow holding his stance, still shooting at the oncoming Tank. The cement slammed into the tail of the truck, causing us to spin even more out of control. This time Nick didn't hold his balance, and collapsed backwards out of the truck, and onto the road.

Coach hit the gas.

"Coach, STOP!" I screamed, louder than I'd ever done before. I didn't know if he heard me, but he wasn't moving particularly fast. I jumped from the truck, my legs buckling under me as I rolled onto the street. Nick was just getting his bearing down the road.

"Nick!" I yelled, limping towards him while shooting in the direction of the Tank.

"Zoey, no!" He shouted at me, limping a little himself as he ran from the Tank. It was getting closer

The shaking ground below me threw me off balance, and I fell over just as Nick reached me. To my left I saw Coach moving in reverse back towards us.

"You fucking stupid bitch!" Nick said, trying to haul me to my feet.

A car came soaring through the sky towards us. I grabbed Nick's collar and pulled him on top of me, rolling over and shielding him with my body. It seemed to move in slow motion. I could feel the air above my head penetrated by the car, my hair being tossed around, the roof brushing against my back, barely missing us.

It slammed on the road next to us, rolling and blocking Coach's way. I heard the car doors slamming as they jumped from the truck. This time Nick rolled over, jumping to his feet, dodging the bullets flying at the Tank.

Nick pulled me from the ground, throwing us both onto the side of the road when the Tank swung it's car-length arm. Only then did I realize I lost my pistols in all the commotion, but Nick swiveled, showing no mercy as he unloaded the entire magazine of his SMG on the Tank. It stumbled backwards at Nick's onslaught, but grew even angrier.

The car that it threw at us suddenly disappeared, as the pickup truck came into view, moving in reverse and flying towards the Tank. Coach and Rochelle were in the middle of the road where the truck was blocked from us, waving frantically for Nick and I.

"Where's Ellis?" I managed to ask as Nick dragged us both over to them.

He looked over his shoulder. I met his gaze. Ellis was screaming furiously as he rammed the truck into the tank at full speed, Ellis himself slamming into the steering wheel at this impact, rolling completely over it's massive body and crushing it's head. He didn't stop at this, he put it in drive and made sure he heard the crunch of its skull.

I fell to the ground and Rochelle's feet, Nick leaning over beside Coach, trying to catch his breath. My entire body hated me, every single muscle and every single bone screaming their protests. I looked down at myself, at the blood seeping through the bandages from this exertion. Rochelle helped me to my feet, and I leaned heavily on her.

"Zoey, you're okay, you're okay." She repeated as I buckled into her, unable to hold myself up any longer. Nick was brushing the dirt off of his suit.

The pickup truck rolled on over to us, Ellis jumping from the driver's seat. Rochelle couldn't hold me up any longer, and Ellis relieved her of my weight, catching me as I fell over again.

Everybody jumped into the truck, not wanting to wait around for a second onslaught. This time Ellis was driving, and he laid me across the bench in the front seat, everybody else falling into the bed.

"God damn, Zoey. You really are a crazy mother fucker." He said, starting the truck, shaking his head and chuckling humorlessly. "You almost got yourself killed for Nick." He added with a mock sneer.

Blackness was creeping into my vision. "Ellis," I said, leaning against the passenger side door, my legs stretched out in front of me.

"Yeah?" he responded, looking over at me as he weaved down the dark road.

"I'm the one who shot your mom." I said weakly, before succumbing to unconsciousness.

* * *

"I think he hates me." I said, looking down at Ellis' sleeping form. We sat in the bed of the truck, alternating turns driving. Rochelle took the wheel, much to Nick's doubt, and Coach was snoring in the passenger seat.

Nick shrugged, puffing on a cigarette. "I don't know, kid. I'm pretty sure I'd hate you too if you shot my mom." He paused. "No, on second thought I think I'd love you for it."

"I'm serious, Nick." I said sadly. "I had absolutely no discretion."

"Honestly, now, Zoey. What do you expect? What did Ellis expect? It's life or death here. Kill or be killed. Not 'have discretion while killing the zombie version of Ellis' mom'. If the kid actually has it in him to be hurt about what you did, it's a mystery to me he made it this long."

I sometimes wondered why I didn't listen to Nick as much as I probably should.

* * *

"Zoey, Zoey, wake up!" Rochelle said, shaking me awake. I sat up, my clothes sticking to me with sweat, plastered to my wounds. The sun was bearing down on us.

"What?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. She pointed ahead of us. I met what she was looking at.

The two story-high, impenetrable steel gates were just down the road. From the distance I could see the armed guards parading around the front. It looked just like it did on the TV. I felt like I did when I was a kid and we'd finally reach our vacation spot after hours of driving.

Ellis was driving, Coach in the seat beside him. Nick was still snoring at the end of the truck.

"Oh my God, Zoey. We made it. We made it!" She shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. She lurched forward and embraced me, sobbing into my hair.

"There, there." I said comfortingly. "I know. We're going to be okay." I said as enthusiastically as I could.

I woke up Nick when we were closer. When he saw with his own eyes that this place was the real deal, he gave me a look I'd never seen on him. "Nice job, Zoey. You were right." He said, shaking my shoulders.

We were halted a little ways away from the gates by two armed guards in military apparel. "Please step from the vehicle." They ordered.

We all obliged, trying to look as healthy as possible, standing next to each other. I looked over at Ellis, but he didn't return my gaze.

"Are any of you infected?" One of them asked. I wondered why they even bothers with that question, I assumed nobody ever told the truth.

We all shook our heads.

"Have you come in contact with the infected?"

We all smirked, looking down at ourselves. "No, we came all the way from New Orleans in a private jet." Nick said sourly. "If any of us were prone to infection, we'd know."

The solider eyed him wearily. "Very well. You're to leave your vehicle and weapons here, proceed right down to the entrance of the gate for further inspection." Before we walked away, I caught one of them staring at my torn, bloody skin.

"Hunter." I said, answering his unspoken question.

He stared at me as we walked away, before turning to the other guard and whispering something. They both laughed.

"Form a straight line." The guards ordered immediately after we reached them. To our right were four cages, inside were what looked like Rottweiler's or German Shepherds. One by one we had to walk past them. My heart hammered behind my ribs as each of them went before me, without the dogs so much as whining. At this I was extremely grateful.

I took a deep breath and followed suit. I imagined the dogs going insane when they smelled me and me being hauled off by the guards for immediate execution. But in reality, nothing happened. They stayed just as silent.

"You're to report to the Medic for a mental and physical examination, as well as disinfection." Said the guard, tearing a piece of paper from his board and handing it to me. "Welcome." He added with a wink, and ordered the gates to be opened.

* * *

I finally woke up. I don't know how long I was sleeping, but for the first time in a long time I felt rejuvenated. I sat up from the cot I was issued from hundreds others. Where we were staying was like a long hall, the walls lined with cots.

They gave me new clothes. I stuck with my jeans but accepted the plain white T-shirt. After we each visited the Medic for extensive inspection, we were all cleared and registered in the camp. They washed me from head to toe, disinfecting each of my wounds and bandaging me up properly. I felt the best I could ever remember, as if I could run ten miles with a horde on my tail.

Looking around, I immediately spotted Ellis, Nick, Rochelle and Coach still sleeping heavily on their cots. It felt like nothing else, being able to sleep comfortably, not having to keep a weapon in your hands or possibilities in your head.

I walked from the sleeping hall and into the sunlight, actually taking in the camp around me. The buildings were built last minute, but they seemed durable enough. There were five different buildings identical to the one I just emerged from, all circled around what would be a town square. The sleeping hall, the dining hall, the Medic, the facilities and showers, and the recreational hall, which held a basketball hoop and bookshelf of old books and outdated magazines.

Further away was the military sect, cut off from the civilians by a long, barbed gate. I didn't dwell much on that part, and made my way towards the dining hall. I looked at all the people around me, who were walking around, talking and laughing. I felt terrified, jumping away when somebody came even close to me.

It occurred to me that I'd never be the same. Would I ever be able to be around groups of people ever again? At any moment they could be zombies instead. Is this really something one could get over?

I shook my head to myself, pushing open the door to the dining hall.

Most tables were occupied, I concluded as I stood holding a small tray of food. It felt like high school all over again, and I shuddered at the memory. I spotted a vacant table with only one other occupant, and weaved my way over.

I sat across an older looking man, whose hair was beginning to fall out and graying up the sides. His face held years of smiling and laughing, which didn't seem to be making appearances nowadays.

He looked up at my approach, and I sat across from him, immediately digging into my food. The camp had it's own garden, so my meal consisted of soup full of all sorts of vegetables and an apple on the side.

"Hi." He greeted me, putting down the novel he was reading.

I nodded at him, shoving down my food.

"I know everybody here. Why haven't I seen you?" He asked.

I shrugged. "My...friends and I just got here a day ago."

He looked taken aback. "And I was almost positive we were done getting refugees. How'd you make it?"

"Pure willpower." I smirked.

He didn't answer, just kept staring at me. I resumed eating my meal, not the least bit intimidated, as I assumed he was going for. It was going to take a lot more than a cold stare to scare me now.

"You made a mistake. You shouldn't have come." He said simply.

It was my turn to stare. Before I could form a response, he stood from the table and disappeared among the groups of people exiting and entering the dining hall.

* * *

After I ate, I took a shower. Possibly the longest shower I'd ever taken. I couldn't get what that man said out of my head. What did he mean we made a mistake coming here? How could it possibly be a mistake, was he implying that outside this place was better?

I wouldn't dream of it.

I retired back to my cot, somehow still exhausted, and snuggled into the cheap blanket. I hadn't seen any signs of Nick or the others, but I assumed it was easy to lose track of people in this place.

I willed myself to sleep.

Somebody crawled into my cot. Somebody warm, who settled in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him. I grabbed hold of his hand, turning my face to his. "I am so sorry, Ellis." I whispered, feeling the tears in my eyes.

His hand moved to my face, holding it as he kissed me, brushing away the tears with his thumb as they fell. He didn't have to say anything for me to know he had forgiven me. I snuggled against him, feeling his breath on the back of my neck.

As I fell into a heavy slumber, I heard him whisper in my ear. "I love you."

* * *

I woke up in the middle of the night, having to go to the bathroom extremely bad. I extracted myself from Ellis' arms and padded quietly towards the exit, not wanting to wake up all the other sleeping forms around us.

I pushed open the doors, and nearly collided with a guard.

"Oh, sorry." I said, beginning to move away.

"What are you doing, miss? It's past curfew." He said, grabbing my arm.

"Curfew?" I reiterated. "I didn't know there was a...I just really have to use the bathroom. Please, I'll be quick."

He eyed me up and down for a minute, before jerking his head in the direction of the facilities. "Make it quick."

I practically ran across the square to the bathrooms, bursting through the door. I kept the lights off, my eyes already too adjusted to the darkness, and went over to the stalls, the linoleum cold beneath my feet.

Before I went into the stall, I sensed somebody behind me. I swiveled around defensively, but they grabbed my shoulders. I brought my knee to their gut, and when they buckled over, brought it up to their face, hearing the bone crack with the impact.

"Zoey..." The figure said as they lay on the floor, their hands over their face. The voice was horribly familiar, and a pit formed in my stomach. I flipped on the lights, a gasp of shock escaping my lips, and fell to the ground beside them.

I had to choke back my sobs of joy. "Oh my God, Louis!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Here it is: The final chapter. It had taken me a while, for that I apologize. It switched POV a few times, only to give you all sides of the story. Personally, I guess you can say I'm rather happy with how it came out, but I'll leave that for you to decide. I hope you like it, _please _leave a review!**

**I have a song to go with this. - 'I Can Barely Breathe' - Manchester Orchestra. I always listen to it when I work on this story. Check it out to see if you agree or not.**

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* * *

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Weeks passed. It was the same thing every day. Wake up. Eat. Shower. Sit. Avoid people. Sit. Look for that mystery man. Sit. Eat. Crawl into bed with Ellis. The same repetitive schedule every day. Over and over. Though, no matter how hard I searched for that man I met on the first day, I could never find him. Had I forgotten his face? I was sure I could pick him out of a crowd. I needed to know what he meant.

I was definitely going mad in this place. There was nothing to do, nobody to talk to. Not that I was taking kindly to people just yet. It was hard to be in a group. I could hold one-on-one conversations fairly well, but any time there were more than four people around me, what I was used to, my anxiety would take over and I'd run.

Nick had been seen among the flocks of women who, by the looks of it, had never even seen a zombie in person. They listened to his stories and admired is battle scars with mouth's agape. I'd roll my eyes, chuckling nonetheless. Coach was often in the dining hall, taking back the fifty or so pounds he lost, give or take a hundred. Ellis was the only one I saw almost all day, everyday. Now, around all these people, I felt more alone than ever. And these were the times I needed him the most.

Rochelle was smitten with Louis. And that brought me back to my current problem. Louis.

As completely shocked and indescribably thrilled I was to finally see him again, it couldn't seem to fill the unmistakable emptiness I felt. After the initial tumult of excitement and tears of being reunited, we hid in the bathroom and I pressed him to remember as much as he could. He knew nothing about what happened to Francis. Hasn't seen him since. Said he spent days searching for me, but after assuming that I was dead somehow had a stroke of luck and found a ride with two strangers headed to South Carolina themselves. He had no idea of this refuge, didn't ask questions about where these strangers were headed, was just glad to be somewhere safer than the roads.

I remember my stomach dropping, all the hope I had fizzling out, when he couldn't tell me what happened to Francis. But for some reason, an idea was nagging me, a thought that started out small and steadily expanded with every question I asked. Louis wasn't telling me the truth.

* * *

**(Louis & Ellis POV)**

"Zoey's different." Louis said to Ellis, sounding factual, his eyes on Zoey sitting in the square, alone. He watched as she eyed all who passed her apprehensively, as if she was waiting for some reason to take defensive actions.

They were sitting at a bench table outside the dining hall. Ellis looked up at Louis. "Ain't we all?"

At first, Ellis had no idea what had Zoey so riled up when she returned to her cot one night a few weeks ago, but he soon found out that Louis, her old comrade, had somehow survived the crash and made it here safely. For some reason Ellis couldn't put his finger on, this irked him. It would only give Zoey more reason to dwell on that accident, the loss of her friends. With every revelation comes more hurt, Ellis came to realize.

And as much as Ellis fought to accept Zoey's past feelings for the man named Francis, and as much as he tried to comfort her over this loss, he wanted nothing more than Zoey to forget about Francis and focus on him. In an ideal world, Zoey would be over Francis and even look at the bright side, that she now had Ellis in her life. But Ellis knew he was overestimating her feelings for him, and all he could do was hope.

Louis returned his gaze wearily. "Not what I meant. I didn't know Zoey before the infection, but even afterward she still seemed to have a hold on herself. That's almost completely gone. She's a different person."

Ellis looked over at Zoey, her expression vacant as she stared off into the distance, lost in her thoughts. "Whatya mean?"

Louis just shook his head, unable to put it into words. They sat in silence for a while, before Ellis finally built up enough courage to ask the question that has been eating away at him. "Whose Francis?"

Louis' face turned cold. "Why do you want to know?"

Ellis shrugged, staring down at his hands. "He meant a lot to Zoey, he must have. She's hurtin' bad over him."

At these words, Louis' face fell. It would make it that much harder to tell her the truth. He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking over what to say. "I can't say exactly who he is. By the time I met up with them, him and Zoey were already a team, so to speak. Bill showed up later."

"Did she know him before?" Ellis wondered.

Louis shrugged. "They could have, but I doubt it. They were from two different worlds. And if you listened to some of their arguments, it showed." He said, smiling slightly.

Ellis was unsatisfied with these answers. "Were they in love?"

Louis met his eyes, seeing the anguish Ellis felt just asking this question. Louis was tired of hurting people. "Maybe? We never talked about it. They cared a lot about each other, and were always affectionate...But who knows? I didn't think it was possible to fall in love during the apocalypse."

Ellis wanted to tell him how wrong he was. But instead he remained still, mulling all this over. He met Louis' cold stare with a gaze just as penetrating. "You know what happened to him." Ellis stated, not asking questions.

Louis didn't break the stare. He was silent for a long time.

He nodded.

* * *

**(Zoey POV)**

I was sitting in the square, letting my skin bathe in the sun. Aware of Louis and Ellis talking outside the dining hall, I pretended not to notice the glances they were constantly sending my way. They were in deep conversation, Ellis' brows furrowed. I wondered what they were talking about, and was about to walk over when I saw him emerge from the sleeping hall.

He looked exactly the same as when I first met him, but why when I was actually looking for him could I not find him? I bolted across the square, grabbing him by the arm before he disappeared through the doorway.

"Hi." I said breathlessly when he turned towards me.

"I remember you." He said, somewhat solemnly.

"Yeah. Could we talk?"

"By all means." He said, gesturing towards a chess table. We sat opposite each other, and I fiddled with the chess pieces absentmindedly, trying to phrase my questions. I decided to get straight to the point, no bullshit.

"What did you mean?"

He took a drink from his cup, smacking his lips. "About what?"

"When you said I made a mistake coming here. What did you mean?" I reiterated.

His face fell. He shook his head. "I don't know if I should tell you."

"The hell you shouldn't!" I snapped. He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't go through hell and back to get here only to find out it was a fucking mistake. Tell me, now." I said through gritted teeth, my temper getting the best of me. I was on a short fuse these days.

He stared me down for a couple minutes, before sighing. "Consider this place the Auschwitz of the zombie apocalypse."

* * *

**(Ellis and Louis)**

"Why didn't you tell Zoey this?" Ellis asked, befuddled at Louis' admittance.

Louis chuckled humorlessly. "Would you?"

Mulling it over briefly, Ellis agreed. If he had a part in the death of somebody close to Zoey, he wouldn't tell her. Which was why he was mildly surprised Zoey confessed to shooting his mother. He shook the thought from his mind, returning to the current conversation.

Ellis looked around the square for Zoey, and saw her sitting at a chess table with somebody he didn't recognize. They were immersed in conversation. "Aye, whose that Zoey's talkin' with?" Ellis wondered.

Louis turned in his chair, before waving it off to Ellis. "Ah, that guys a nut. Old conspiracy theorist."

"You reckon he's sharin' some of his theories with Zoey?"

"Probably. But if Zoey has a brain she should know not to believe a word of it. He's tried convincing me, but I know what's really going on so I call bullshit on him all the time." Louis shrugged.

"…what's really going on?"

* * *

**(Zoey)**

"This doesn't make any sense." I said, shaking my head. "Why would they do this? The human population is already severely thinned out as it is."

"Do you honestly think a few hundred people make a difference to them?"

"It should! It's a few hundred people more than we'd have!"

"But that's not how they think. They're using this flesh-eating holocaust as an excuse to execute their fantasies, play doctor. Use the 'trying to find a cure' card."

I shook my head, unbelieving.

"And you know what else?" He prodded, leaning in enthusiastically.

"What?"

"There's been an excess amount of refugees. More than they anticipated. They're playing survival of the fittest. You see how many people they're choppering out lately?"

I nodded.

"They're getting rid of them. Dropping them in heavily infested territory or lining them up against the wall, who knows. But they're not taking them to any kind of safety, that's for sure."

"Are they taking any specific type of people?" I wondered.

"Sick, old, young. Anybody whose not of genetic benefit to mankind. Who won't be useful in the new world."

This was sick. This was wrong. This couldn't be true. But I absorbed every word of it.

* * *

**(Ellis and Louis)**

"I'm just gonna be straight with you, Ellis. Because chances are we're not going to be in this place much longer."

Ellis leaned in. "What are you talkin' 'bout?"

Louis' voice dropped a few pitches, his eyes holding Ellis'. "Do you know why so many people have been choppered out lately?"

Ellis shook his head.

Louis looked around them to make sure nobody was listening before continuing. "There have been relatively consistent outbreaks within the camp."

Ellis' mouth fell open.

"They've still got a hold on the situation, but not for long. Not everybody is immune to the airborne strain. They've been getting as many people out as possible, the old and young first, the ones who can't protect themselves if it gets too severe."

"Where they goin'?" Ellis asked.

Louis shrugged. "I hear there are a few other refugee towns that have been reclaimed. So, one of those I'm guessing. The problem is, there aren't enough helicopters to take everybody, so pick-ups are rather far apart. And it's kept hush-hush, because if the people found out, well…let's just say most people here have yet to experience a zombie up close."

"And they gon' take all of us?"

"I hope so. Before it's too late."

* * *

**(Zoey)**

I stood from the table and walked away. I couldn't listen to any more. It was absolutely mind blowing how inhumane he said the things the government were doing here. Almost too hard to believe, but I did anyways.

I crossed my arms tight over my chest, making my way to my cot for bed when Ellis ran up to me.

"Zoey!" He exclaimed, stopping in front of me. "There's somethin' I gotta tell you 'bout this place."

He knew, too? "I already know, Ellis."

"What, you do? How?" He shook his head. "Never mind. So y'know we gotta get outta here soon!"

"Why, what's the point? Whether we leave or stay we're going to end up in the same place."

Ellis' brow furrowed, his face contorting into a confused expression. "Huh? Zoey, what'chu talkin' 'bout?"

"Nothing." I said, pushing past him. "I don't wanna talk about it, I'm tired."

I pushed open the doorway into the sleeping hall, leaving Ellis standing there.

* * *

A couple hours later and I was still lying wide awake in my cot, going over and over everything I was told. If they were taking away the young, the sick and the old, why would they drop them in infested territory? Why create more zombies? Unless of course, you only turn into a zombie if you're bitten, not ripped completely apart by thirty infected…and I doubted the people that were being killed off couldn't very well run away.

I almost gagged at the thought.

Somebody came into the sleeping hall, and I immediately knew who it was.

"Zoey," Ellis said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "we gotta talk about what we're gon' do! What if we ain't picked?" He asked in frantic whispers.

I turned over in my cot, my back to him. "There's nothing to talk about, Ellis. Just…let the chips fall where they may."

"What the hell is the matter with you, Zo? Do you know what you're talkin' 'bout? We have a chance to get somewhere safe!" He almost shouted, shaking my shoulder.

I sat up. "Ellis, just stop it. We don't have a chance so just shut the fuck up and let me sleep." I growled, falling back onto the bed and pulling the blanket over my head. Ellis sat there for a moment, speechless, before silently standing up and walking away. I didn't look to see where he went.

What was he talking about? Get somewhere safe? Did he honestly believe that when they were taking people out of here they were taking them to safety? What idiotic beliefs were those?

* * *

**(Ellis)**

Ellis slammed open the exit to the sleeping hall, ignoring the guard behind him telling him it was past curfew. Hand's balled in fists, he plopped down on a bench in the square, grinding his teeth.

Now, Zoey was just being a fool. She knew what was going on, so why the hell was she acting so fucked up about it? Didn't she want to survive any more? They hadn't fought through hell to get here just to give up at the first sign of trouble. Why was Zoey so indifferent, now? Had she found out about Francis?

That would be the only explanation.

Ellis shook his head. No, if she did know, she would be raising a lot more hell than this.

All Ellis knew, was that the next time a helicopter showed up to take more refugees, no matter what Ellis was going to get him and Zoey out of here, even if it means tying her up and dragging her.

* * *

**(Zoey)**

I couldn't sleep, no matter how hard I tried, how much I willed myself to slink into unconsciousness, it wasn't going to happen.

What Ellis said had barely phased me, I knew he had no idea what he was talking about. The signs were all over the camp. The elderly and sick being taken out, people becoming paranoid and ill with anxiety, earlier curfew, tighter restrictions. It made sense.

Every time I thought of the children and the grandparents being dropped into a mob of undead, a pit so deep formed I my stomach. I, as a human being, couldn't let that happen. It was so against everything I've ever lived for, ever fought through hordes of undead for.

I didn't make a mistake coming here. Because the next time a chopper takes more refugees, I'm getting in there with them, and I'll make damn sure they survive.

* * *

A week later and my chance presented itself. I was sleeping on my cot when I awoke to a guard entering the sleeping hall. It was midday and not many people were in there, but I spent most of my time sleeping those days.

A woman was laying in a cot a few down from me. The guard bent over her, and when she got over her coughing fit, he began talking quietly. She nodded along with him.

They were close enough for me to hear. He was telling her she was on the list for the next pick up and drop off, to have her things ready and be waiting in the square by tomorrow afternoon. If she failed to make an appearance, she would fail to be extracted at all, for this was the last known extraction to take place for some time. As he was walking away, he seemed to check her name off of a list.

The door slammed upon his exit. She was sick, they were getting rid of her. A ball formed in my stomach.

* * *

By the time I fell asleep, I already planned my course of actions.

According to Stan, as I learned his name was, the passengers weren't carded and stamped until they were already aboard the chopper. There was my chance to get aboard.

Since there was no need for military personnel to have to physically exit the helicopter, there would only be a couple guards escorting said passengers. A couple guards easily overtaken by somebody who knew what they were doing.

And a pilot, who would easily oblige to any off-record demands with the barrel of a gun pressed against their skull.

Every shred of the person I used to be was gone. I couldn't find a problem having to kill a few to save a hundred. I had no problem rebelling against the authorities in this case because authority had ceased to exist to me. I was the authority in what I said and what I did. And if these people were destined to die, I was going to make sure it wasn't under the military's command.

In the time humanity was threatened with extinction, was the time humanity ceased to exist at all.

It was hard for me to find a reason not to go through with this. I felt more reckless with my own life. As if I was preventing my death, but then again would welcome it if it came knocking on my door. I was tired of this. And I wanted to go down with a purpose. Protecting those who couldn't protect themselves.

I was still fuming over this the next morning. I sat outside, eyes unfocused in the distance, going over and over my plan. The part I couldn't seem to tie up was where I would take these people, how I would keep them alive.

The best idea would be to somehow get them to stay in the camp. But this couldn't be done without a considerable amount of force and threats of violence on my part, inevitably leading to incarceration and probably leaving me subjected to some of their sickening experiments. And if they couldn't get rid of the sick and the weak one way, they would do it another. I was their only chance.

Lost so deep in this idea, I almost didn't feel Louis tapping on my shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"We need to talk." He said, sitting across from me.

I glanced at the clock in the square. A couple more hours to go, until it was all set in action.

"What about?" I wondered, chewing on my nails.

"Francis."

This one word changed everything. Immediately, all else that was occupying my thoughts diminished, opening the door to the flood of Francis, the door I fought to keep locked at all times.

"Go on…" I said, hesitantly

Louis stared down at his hands, staying silent. Eventually he looked up at me, and after taking a deep breathe, continued. "I lied to you, Zoey."

So my suspicions were plausible. "About?" I asked, smirking. I had no idea the immensity of his lie, thought it only about a few minor details, not the entire course of events…

"About what happened to Francis." He admitted.

"You said you didn't know." I stated, probably seeming much less angry than he anticipated.

"I…I do know. Not only that, but…" Louis bit his trembling lower lip. "I-I could have stopped him."

This was going in a totally different direction. I leaned towards him over the table, my voice low and even. "Stopped him from doing what?"

Louis shook his head, his eyes watering. "He wouldn't listen, but I don't think I tried hard enough. I thought I did all I could, but looking back on it-!" He slammed a fist on the table, covering his eyes with his other hand.

"Louis, what happened?" He didn't respond. "What the fuck happened to Francis?" I shouted.

"H-he thought you were dead, Zoey. He c-couldn't think of any reason to keep going. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for us."

It felt as if somebody was holding me underwater. I fought to understand, to make sense of what he was telling me, to even breath right. "What are you saying, Louis…?"

"I didn't do as much as I could, as I should have. If only I tried harder…I could have tried harder…to convince him…but by the time I woke up, he was already gone."

The world around me blurred. It felt as if I was hovering above myself, watching my own reaction. I was stone, absorbing these words. Deciphering what they meant. Francis killed himself. The images that flashed through my mind, the words and the memories, faded as if I was watching from behind a thin curtain but suddenly torn open to be viewed in one sudden onslaught. Francis putting a gun in his mouth. Francis saying my name one last time. Francis pulling the trigger. Francis' body falling in a lifeless heap. Because of me.

The world started to rotate again. I fell back into my body with a jolt, and my breath came in one pitiful sob with this revelation. I didn't know what the fury I felt meant, or who it was directed at, but before I could stop myself, I had lunged at Louis, beating any part of him I could find.

He didn't fight beneath me, just lay there and took it. I don't know who plucked me off of him, but I was thrashing in somebody's arms, dragged away from Louis in a state of emotion I couldn't begin to describe.

* * *

Sitting on my cot, everything I had worked through my mind was falling apart. I couldn't figure out, remember why I had wanted to get on the chopper in the first place. I was in a trance, a state of lack of emotion. I couldn't seem to feel anything.

All I knew was that, I was still going through with it. But only because I had lost all will to live, and I might as well go down in a way slightly more dignifying than pulling the trigger on myself.

At this moment I hated everything and everybody around me. I wanted to get on that chopper as just another victim, not their savior.

I felt somebody sit down on the bed next to me, and I half turned, expecting it to be Ellis.

"Nick," I said, surprised at how I felt at seeing him.

"I haven't seen you around, kid." He said softly. Something was the matter with him, I could tell in his eyes. His look almost always held a certain satire, holier-than-thou gaze. Now I just saw dread.

"It's crowded here." I said dryly. "How are Coach and Rochelle? Have you seen them?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, they're alright. Coach is better than I've seen him, and Louis has seemed to have struck Rochelle's fancy…"

I chuckled once. I looked Nick over. It was weird not seeing him in his trademark suit. I wondered the purpose of his visit. I almost hadn't talked to him at all since we got here. "What brings you, Nick?"

Nick opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut again. He just shook his head, reaching forward and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his warm hand resting on my neck. The gesture was so unanticipated and uncharacteristic that I couldn't when my lip began to tremble and my eyes began to sting.

Nick pulled me by the neck into his chest, wrapping his arms around my torso and resting his chin on my head. His hand moved up and down my back in an attempt to comfort me. I closed my eyes, imagining the arms of somebody else. The brunt of it all overwhelmed me in an unforeseen emotion onslaught, and I let my tears stain the collar of Nick's shirt.

I didn't tell him why I was crying, and he didn't ask. I didn't tell him about Francis, what I was planning to do, how I was going to leave all of them. I didn't tell him how much it hurt to be around Ellis, knowing how much he meant to me and what it would do to him if he knew. I sure as hell didn't say how much I wanted to die, and how I couldn't wait for that helicopter to drop me in a pit of undead.

"I'm going to miss you, Zoey." Nick suddenly whispered into my hair.

I pulled away. There's no way he could have known. "What are you-?" I began, wiping my eyes.

"There's something I have to tell you. About this place. Ellis said he tried, but you wouldn't listen."

"I already know." I said, standing from the bed. I wanted to avoid the subject at all costs, to keep Nick from getting the slightest idea.

"But, Zoey-"

The blades of a helicopter from outside grabbed my attention. I disregarded anything Nick had just said and bolted from the hall, out into the square. My eyes scanned around me, searching for it, and I saw the helicopter lowering onto the landing pad in the military sector. The gate to the sector, that was usually sealed to prevent trespassers, was open to allow the line of people to the helicopter.

Nick appeared behind me. I had to get him away, so he wouldn't try to stop me. "Nick, go get Ellis. Quickly!"

He nodded, and ran off. He obliged all too easily. I stared at his retreating figure questioningly, before turning and darting towards the military sector.

* * *

**(Ellis & Nick)**

"Ellis!" Nick yelled when he burst into the dining hall. "Ellis!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled for him a third time.

He saw him stand from a table in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, looking around for who was calling him.

"Fucking hick." Nick muttered to himself, and weaved his way through the crowd to Ellis.

"Nick, was that you callin' me?"

"Yeah, dumbass. Zoey wanted me to come get you. She said she knows everything, and the helicopter is here. So if we wanna get the fuck out of here, it has to be now." Nick said quickly, already pulling Ellis towards the door.

A sudden scream permeated the usual chatter around the cafeteria, and everybody fell silent. Nick and Ellis froze, looking around.

"FUCK!" A young man shouted, climbing over the tables and running for the exit. "THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE FUCKING IN HERE!"

Nobody even dared looking for 'them', they just leapt from their seats and bolted for the exit like a bat out of hell. Ellis and Nick pushed themselves against the wall to avoid being trampled by the wave of people. Everybody was being shoved and kicked, stepped on. Ellis stood on top of a table, looking over the heads of everybody, and saw why.

The lunch lady's were on the ground, their insides being torn out at the hands of infected. There were only a few, who were currently too preoccupied with their present meal to chase after the people dashing about them.

It was when five more suddenly burst from the kitchen, their black, vacant eyes taking in the all-you-can-eat before them. They pulled themselves over the counter, and when they howled in unison it drowned out the screams of the civilians around them.

"Fuck, fuck fuck." Nick said, pulling Ellis down from the table. "We gotta get to that helicopter!" Together they shoved through the crowd. The two of them were used to running through thick crowds, just not of healthy people. They bounced off of the people around them, everybody almost piling on top of each other in the exit.

Ellis dared a look over his shoulder. The undead took to the trampled first, the easy prey. The one's who were mercilessly stepped on.

A round went past Ellis' ear, and everybody instinctively lowered towards the floor. Some to avoid the bullets, some from being hit by bullets.

Nick shoved Ellis hard, ushering him back behind the wall, and they dropped to the ground.

"What the hell are they doin'?" Ellis shouted over the shouts.

"They can't get in to kill the zombies."

"So they're shootin' down healthy people who are just tryin' to get out?"

"It's either that or let the infected get 'em! Listen, forget about that. We gotta get to that helicopter. I think Zoey's already there."

"What about Coach and Rochelle?" Ellis asked desperately.

Nick stared at him. They had to lower their heads when they opened fire once again, more people dropping dead on the floor around them. "If we see them, we'll grab 'em. But we can't waste time looking for 'em, kid. I'm sorry."

Just then, a group of soldiers were finally able to make it through the doors. It took them a matter of moments to take out the few infected that were feasting on the trampled and the lunch lady's. The civilians didn't waste time getting the fuck out of there as soon as they got the chance.

"Let's go." Nick said, jumping to his feet and running towards the exit.

Ellis was at his heels, but just before he made it out, something in his peripherals caught his attention. One of the bullet victims was beginning to reanimate. Somebody who was previously bitten and had tried to hide it. It gained it's footing, and immediately targeted a young woman limping towards the exit, her leg bleeding profusely.

The soldiers were barking orders at each other, guns pointed as they scouted the rest of the cafeteria, disappearing into the kitchen. Ellis heard more gunshots from within.

The zombie lunged towards the woman, and she screamed. Ellis didn't hesitate, grabbing a chair from one of the tables and smashing it over the creatures head. The chair broke into pieces, and the zombie fell onto the ground. Ellis took a piece of the jagged chair and casually pierced it's skull.

"Ellis!" Nick said, rushing back into the dining hall, an anxious look on his face. He had probably thought Ellis was still behind him.

"Thank you, thank you!" The woman said in a shaky voice as Ellis helped her to her feet.

"Don't worry about it, now run!" Ellis said, shoving her out the door. Nick was running backwards, waiting for Ellis to catch up.

They jogged for the military sector, Ellis quickening his pace when he spotted Zoey in the crowd around it, wrestling with a guard. They had to hurry, before the military closed off the gates to prevent the riots of people from forcing their way onto the helicopter.

Louis had warned him, and Ellis didn't want to believe it. They should have gotten out earlier. They shouldn't have come here. Now all hell was breaking loose, and there seemed to be no end in sight.

* * *

**(Zoey)**

My eyes darted around anxiously. I hoped Nick couldn't find Ellis, to buy me enough time to get out of here before they noticed. I'd be dead by the time they figured out what happened. They'd be safe here. They'd be okay. I shouldn't have to live when I didn't want to. They'd only try to stop me.

The guards ushered us over towards the helicopter. I merged into the line, disappearing into the crowd of people. There was excited chatter around me. Some were relieved, some were worried. I caught bits of conversation from behind me.

"What about all the people they're leaving behind? What if they don't get out in time?"

"Don't worry, they'll take care of it. You see how many soldiers they have here. They'll be okay for the time being, don't worry."

"I just don't know."

Intrigued, I was about to turn and ask what they were talking about when the all-too familiar drone of automatic weapons pierced the air. Everybody simultaneously turned towards the sound. It was coming from the dining hall.

People were running, terrified looks on their faces. Some were being trampled in the doorway. What they were running from, I didn't know. But I had a sickening idea growing in the back of my head, only I refused to believe it at that moment.

I found myself moving out of the line, taking small steps towards the gate, only trying to get a closer look.

"RUN! THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE IN THE CAMP!" Somebody yelled when they made it out of the dining hall. His clothes had footsteps on it, and he was limping.

More gunshot echoed around the camp, except it was coming from the great steel gate that sealed us off from the rest of the world. The guards on top were shooting, only not at things from outside the gate as they usually were. I looked, horrified, at the square to see people dropping dead.

A closer look confirmed they weren't people. They were in the camp.

It suddenly became clear to me.

"Everybody on the chopper, NOW!" The guards shouted, ushering everybody onto the helicopter. Nobody hesitated, everybody obliged without a moments thought.

"No, no, no!" I shouted, and tried to run towards the gate. I had to get Ellis, I had to find Nick. I was wrong. I had it all wrong. Ellis had tried telling me, but I wouldn't listen. I only saw what I wanted to believe. What Stan had told me. It all made sense, now. All the signs I had thought were pointing to the crooked ways of the military were really pointing to this. To the outbreaks within the camp. That's why Ellis wanted to get out. These helicopters were taking the sick and old to safety first. The ones who couldn't protect themselves. Why was I so stupid? I had never felt more deserving of death, but I disregarded that at the moment because all that was coursing through my mind was the need to go find Ellis, and get him on this helicopter.

I tried to run, to get into the square. Everybody was running around, people falling dead. Fire had broken out in the dining hall and was reaching out of the windows.

Somebody grabbed my arm, dragging me back to the helicopter. "Where do you think you're going? We gotta get you people out of here!" A guard shouted at me.

"NO! NO, let me go! I have to go get them! We can save them!" I hollered, thrashing in his arms. I don't know how I did it, but somehow I was relieved of his hold on me and was dashing back towards the gate. There were only a few more people who weren't on the helicopter.

My heart was pounding, every part of me shaking, as I ran towards the hell I had always fought to escape.

I saw him. Ellis. He was running towards me, Nick at his side. They were dirty and sweaty.

"ELLIS! NICK! RUN!" I screamed, after seeing the military rushing to seal the gate to the military sector. "RUN!"

They were nearly here. There was enough time. We could make it. Coach and Rochelle suddenly popped into my head, I worried about them. But there was nothing I could do.

The chain-linked fence suddenly slammed close just as I made it. "No, open it! Open the gate!" I shouted at the guards who were standing on the watch posts. "Please, open the fucking gate!"

"Zoey!" Ellis said, breathlessly, as he nearly collapsed on the gate. Nick fell, defeated, on the ground at his side. I reached for his hands through the gaps in the fence.

"There's no way they're going to let us in." Nick said.

"No, no, no." I argued. "Then they'll have to let me out." I looked up towards the guards. "Please, I'm not supposed to be here! I'm not supposed to leave!"

"Zoey, stop! You can make it! You'll survive!"

"No!" I nearly sobbed. "I don't want to survive without you, Ellis! No!" I squeezed his fingers tighter, ignorant of the chaos in the square, the authorities still trying to get a hold on the situation.

"You'll make it, Zoey." His voice dropped. "I love you, alright? Remember that, no matter where yah are," His voice broke, tears falling from behind his lids. "remember that I love you." His eyes fell on something behind me. "Don't hurt her!"

I turned just as two pairs of arms seized me, tearing my hands from Ellis'. "Please!" I begged with the guards, falling to my knees to keep them from taking me. "I'm not supposed to be on the helicopter! You have it wrong! Please, it's a mistake!"

"Zoey, stop it! Stop fightin' it! Just go!" Nick shouted. He flinched when the guards began shooting at a few infected who were darting towards the military sector. And I screamed, fighting so hard I winded myself after a couple moments. They were going to die, because of me.

"I'm sorry!" I yelled. "Ellis, Nick, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

I was almost at the helicopter. I just saw Ellis shake his head, his hands still gripping the steel gate tightly. My view of him was cut off when they threw me into the chopper, along with fifty other people. They shut the door before I could leap out, and I beat my fists against the window. "No!" I sobbed into the glass. "No, no, no!"

This was all my fault. If only I had listened to reason, instead of the insane conspiracy theories Stan fed me. Ellis would be here with me, Ellis would make it to safety with me. He was going to die because of me. Him and Nick were going to die. Another person was going to die because of _me_. Louis, Francis, Bill, Coach, Rochelle, Nick, Ellis…All because of me.

If I were ever to see Stan again, I was going to kill that bastard. I swore that to myself at that moment.

As the helicopter rose into the sky, my sobs became louder, more uncontrollable. I still had Ellis in my sights, Nick leaning against the fence tiredly.

There was more gunshot. A lot more. A small army of soldiers appeared in the square, shooting at an enemy I couldn't see. The helicopter rose over the buildings, revealing a horde of undead leaping over the walls, overtaking the civilians. People and infected falling dead everywhere, fire burning down the buildings, spreading quickly.

My eye's fell back towards the gate, for one last look at Ellis. Except he had disappeared. A mob of undead beating at the gate had taken their place, the guards that were posted there had been overtaken.

I didn't see what happened. I didn't see if he made it.

I couldn't see him. I was too high in the air.

The helicopter swiveled around and the distance between the camp and I grew.

They were gone.

* * *

**Well, that's the end of the road, folks. Keep checking in for the sequel, which I aim to have up within the next couple of weeks, if not less. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. PLEASE review!**


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